Counterstrike
by Stillwaterrs
Summary: The Dominion regroups after Damien Acosta's attack; the relationship between Shalimar and Brennan comes into the open. Chapter 7 now posted. I'd love to hear what you think!
1. Chapter 1

_**Counterstrike!**_

 _ **Chapter 1**_

There was nothing like a really good explosion to make people sit up and take notice.

Set back more than a quarter of a mile from the boulevard behind a thick swath of woods, the sprawling factory had been abandoned for decades. As manufacturing facilities went, it didn't look like much, just a dilapidated patchwork of mismatched buildings squatting on some 45 acres of prime land. A pair of long, flat, rectangular two story buildings stood on either side of the conglomeration, with a number of smaller outbuildings clustered around like chicks seeking the shelter of their mother's wings. The dome-topped rotunda which joined the pair in the center might have been impressive in its day, but now it was an eyesore, pitted and flaking. Stuck onto each side were two cylindrical structures that looked like second cousins to a grain silo, although the grounds bore no resemblance to any kind of working farm. They looked like the rest, with crumbling stone around the foundations, their pointed caps weathered and faded.

Not even the few old-timers in the area could remember the factory's name or even what had been produced there. The general consensus was that it had probably been a government facility in its early days. Rumor had it that at one point the silos had stored either ICBMs or nuclear waste, which was why no one ever tried to redevelop the property. No one wanted the expense of trying to clean up such an albatross on top of what would have to be a major retrofitting, and certainly no one wanted the headaches involved in dealing with an increasingly oppressive EPA. Now a rusty chain with an equally rust-pocked No Trespassing sign hung across a cracked and weed-dotted driveway, cutting off the only paved access to the place from the street, although there was room on either side to drive around if someone really wanted to. Evidently no one had, not for a very long time. With the woods keeping it hidden from view the year around, its very existence faded from local memory, a hulking relic of a bygone era, forgotten and silent, noticed only by small wildlife and the slowing passing seasons.

That is, until an enormous explosion suddenly split the night sky.

The fireball was an impressive one, the force of its launching shaking the ground like an earthquake as it shot a hundred feet into the air. The roiling inferno made a spectacular display that could be seen for miles. Then it turned in on itself as its initial energy was spent, raining down all over the complex. The fallout ignited dozens of ancillary fires.

Almost in the same moment people began spewing out from the supposedly abandoned facility like ants swarming from a knocked-over anthill. From all sides they came, pushing through doors or shattering windows as they tried to escape from the billowing smoke and hungry flames, coughing, staggering, some helping their injured fellows, some trampling others in their blind panic. All the while the shrill klaxon of alarms shrieked their warning, drowning out the screams of the wounded and dying. Then vehicles of men in full body armor and armed with some serious weaponry started appearing from nowhere. At the direction of their commander they moved through the holocaust with military precision, some fanning out to gather up their civilians, others mobilizing in defensive clusters to provide cover for the evacuation.

Unnoticed in the pandemonium four people emerged through a seemingly solid brick wall. The smallest of them, a blond woman, hesitated for only a moment before starting off at an angle away from the inferno. Where others would be stumbling around blindly, she led her comrades through the mushrooming clouds of smoke and ash with an ease that was almost uncanny; guiding them unerringly through the melee, neatly avoiding guards, falling debris, groups of evacuees and ground hazards. Presently, when she found a place well away from the conflagration but concealed from any watchers by a still-mounting curtain of haze, the two men and two women lurched to a halt and tried to catch their collective breath.

To the few that knew of their existence, they were Mutant X, four remarkably gifted people brought together by a pioneer in the field of genetic research named Adam Kane. Shalimar Fox was a feral, with the senses, strength and agility of a tiger. Jesse Kilmartin could alter his physical density from hard enough to repel bullets to ephemeral as a ghost, and could similarly affect objects he touched, such as the wall he phased to allow them all to escape. Brennan Mulwray could generate enough electricity in his body to power a small city, and was able to release that energy through his hands either as bolts of lightning or in sustained blasts that could lift him off the ground like a jet pack. Lexa Pierce's powers were light-based; she could emit a dazzling burst to blind her opponents, fire deadly lasers from her hands, and bend light waves around her to become invisible in normal spectrum light.

It was these talents that made them so valuable to the Dominion, a powerful, shadowy group whose stated mission was to shape the progress of scientific evolution for the benefit of mankind from behind the scenes. They were behind the curtain when Adam Kane's groundbreaking manipulation of the human genetic code inadvertently created mutants, and again when Adam discovered to his horror that the mutants were continuing to mutate, in a cycle that would inevitably see their genes spin completely out of control, resulting in sudden, agonizing and explosive death. Adam made it his life's work to help mutants lead lives that were as normal as possible, to protect them from those who sought to prey upon them, and to ultimately find a way to stabilize mutant genetic structure. To help him in this work, he gathered four of the most powerful and formed Mutant X.

The Dominion was quick to see the advantages of having super-powered operatives among their ranks. Indeed, Lexa had been one of their agents. They formed a partnership of sorts with Kane, supporting him with financing and information from their global network. Mutant X functioned as a strike team, stepping in wherever necessary on missions ranging from neutralizing rogue mutants, keeping dangerous technology from falling into the wrong hands, or any number of other scientific-related disasters, using their abilities to protect a world that didn't even know they existed.

It worked well for a while. Gradually, though, Adam began to sense a sinister darkness creeping into the heart of the Dominion Governing Council. Whatever lofty purpose the Dominion once espoused had become a twisted, ruthless drive not only for world domination, but on such total control of the genetic code that they could create human beings made to order. The very existence of mutants had been just one more unexpected development in that path, one that they quickly turned to their own advantage. It didn't matter to them if a thousand innocent people were destroyed; that their 'creations' were destined for short lives and horrific ends. To the soulless monsters on the Dominion Council they were nothing more than lab rats, a means to an end. Life, loyalty, even basic human decency were nothing more than tools by which they could manipulate their pawns to achieve their own goals. What they really wanted was total control over the human genetic code, and for that they needed Adam Kane.

Adam knew someone was after him, but he didn't know who it was, or who he could trust. He went underground, faking his own death in an attempt to protect his friends from whomever was targeting him. That was when Lexa joined the team, placed there by the Dominion Council as a way to monitor and control Mutant X while still using them for their own ends.

As time went on, the team began to get the same sense of corruption that their mentor had. Their suspicions were confirmed when Adam finally reappeared with corroboration gleaned from months of working deeply hidden back channels. The Dominion Council was implementing some sort of agenda far removed from their lofty stated goals. What that agenda was, and what it meant not only for Mutant X but for the entire world, was still unknown, but none of them were under the illusion that it could be anything good. The problem was, how could they possibly fight an organization as vast and as powerful as The Dominion?

After that, Mutant X walked a tightrope; working for the Dominion on one hand, and watching for any sign of treachery on the other while making preparations for what they all believed was an inevitable battle. They thought they would have more time, but earlier tonight everything changed. The Dominion learned that Jesse Kilmartin's genetic structure had somehow been stabilized. This was the game-changer, the vital element they were missing in their research. Whatever other use Mutant X was to the Dominion, it paled into insignificance next to what Jesse carried. They acted immediately.

As her last assignment with Mutant X, and perhaps as a test of her loyalty to the organization, Lexa was ordered to turn Jesse over to them for genetic testing to determine how that stabilization had occurred, an event that would unquestionably lead to his death. But Lexa's loyalties had undergone a sea change. Being with the team, living and fighting side by side with them for the last year had reawakened emotions she thought she had locked tightly away. Jesse in particular had gotten under her armor, and there was no way she would let them kill him. She rebelled, and single-handedly undertook a suicide mission to try to bring down the Dominion. She was caught, but not before downloading a core-killer virus into their computer system.

Then Dominion managed to capture Jesse. Knowing they would have to neutralize the rest of the team, they tried to force Lexa to give them the access codes to their home base, called Sanctuary, by torturing Jesse before her eyes. At first she stalled, trying to buy time, but then capitulated. An assault team wearing energy-proof suits was dispatched to Sanctuary to take the others into custody. Unfortunately for them, the codes Lexa gave them were bogus. Their operatives had to resort to breaking in. Adam, Brennan and Shalimar were able to escape in their airship, the Double Helix, but instead of running they flew to Dominion headquarters to rescue their friends. They had just landed on the roof when Lexa's computer virus kicked in, throwing everything into chaos. Lexa and Jesse had just broken free when the others found them.

Reunited, they went after the titular head of the Dominion, a mysterious figure known only as 'The Creator'. In the confrontation that followed, Adam was taken hostage and dragged off while Mutant X was held at bay by a force field. The Dominion Council Master ordered their immediate execution, but Adam had rigged Helix to blow up via electronic signal, just in case they needed a diversion. That diversion sent fire shooting down from the roof, triggering secondary explosions in the main building. The team barely escaped with their lives.

Now clear of the worst of the smoke and the rapidly-deploying cordon of armed security, they stumbled to a halt to try to get their bearings. Jesse was the first to find his voice.

"Where the hell do we go now?" he wheezed. 

They all ducked reflexively as another explosion shook the complex behind them, sending a second fireball to chase the first.

"We need to find Adam," Lexa said, "I mean, everyone here except Jesse is living under a death sentence." Even as she spoke the words, though, she was aware that, as important as it was, they had more immediate priorities than rescuing the founder of Mutant X. Although she didn't know all the details, this night's work had very obviously taken its toll on the team. Jesse had burns and abrasions on his hands and face, and was still experiencing muscle tremors, the result of being tortured with electricity. Shalimar looked okay, but Brennan's right arm was tucked inside his shirt in a makeshift sling, and that was definitely a bloody bullet hole below his collarbone. Lexa herself was a step slow from being hit with a knockout dart, although she would never admit it out loud. They needed to find a place to regroup before they tried something as ambitious as rescuing Adam Kane.

"Yes, but Sanctuary's gone, the Helix is gone, the Dominion…." Shalimar trailed off, her thoughts so overwhelmed by the magnitude of their losses that she could only look up to Brennan's face in appeal to the one they all instinctively looked to for leadership in a crisis. What would they do if the Dominion came after them now? They had no home, no means of escape, no…nothing. He shook his head.

"No, they think they've won. It's not over yet."

"It will be if we don't move," Jesse retorted, "Come on."

The flames were climbing higher now, engulfing the other buildings. With multiple explosions still erupting behind them they started toward the nearest cover, the stretch of woods which served to screen the facility from the main road. About halfway there Shalimar's keen ears caught an ominous sound.

"Incoming!" she screamed, pointing at the sky before them, and broke into a run. What had been mere flight now became a desperate sprint across the open ground as the faint patter of rotor blades swelled to a crescendo with terrifying speed. They had barely reached the meager shelter of the trees when a trio of low-flying helicopters roared by overhead. The mutants froze, plastering themselves against the most available trunks large enough to offer any sort of protection. Relief filled them all when the machines flew past, heading for the complex. Spotlights from their bellies stabbed at the ground, and staccato bursts of gunfire were plain to hear. Someone from the building was returning fire; Shalimar could discern the _ping_ peculiar to bullets striking metal. She relayed this to the others.

"If they're shooting at them, those can't be Dominion choppers," she said breathlessly, "So who are they?" They watched as one of them peeled off, heading further back and away from the complex.

"It doesn't matter," Brennan panted, "Whoever wins will have Adam and the Creator; they'll want Jesse next. We need to clear out while we can." Supporting his wounded shoulder as best he could with his left hand wrapped around his elbow, he pushed off the tree he had been slumped against. "We have to get to the road on the other side of these woods. I saw some buildings and lights on the way in. We'll get what we need there."

He nodded to Shalimar to take the point. She started to obey, then hesitated, scanning his face with worried eyes. The billowing flames behind them that painted his strong features in stark contrasts of yellow and orange and black could not completely shadow the suffering she saw there, any more than the layers of his clothing could muffle the stronger scent of blood. The mad dash to the woods would have been agonizing in itself, jarring his shoulder with every pounding step, but it also pumped more blood from his wounds. She started to go to him, but was halted by the slight shake of his head. He met her eyes steadily, acknowledging her concerns, and answered her thoughts in that silent communication that was theirs alone. _I'll be fine. Go_.

She understood, and though not happy about it, accepted, knowing she would only waste time by objecting. Moving with the silent grace of a cheetah she glided through the trees at a deceptively quick pace, though with one ear trained behind to keep track of Brennan in case he faltered. In only a few moments they were at the far edge.

They halted just inside the tree line, taking prudent advantage of the protection of the shadowing woods. From their vantage point they could see a number of small businesses across the road, including a bar and grill, a car rental satellite office, a fast-food joint and an all-night pharmacy. Brennan zeroed in on the only one of the group that was closed for the day

"Over there."

People were coming out of the other establishments, staring and pointing at the fireworks show behind the trees. Brennan cursed. The last thing they needed was witnesses.

"Lexa, can you shield us long enough to get across the road?" After that, he knew, the spectators wouldn't be looking in their direction. The tall brunette nodded, took his left arm and extended her other hand to Jesse. He clasped it with a private little squeeze and reached in turn for Shalimar, but she demurred.

"I won't be seen," she said. With that, she glided sideways through the woods, aiming to move further down the street. In seconds she had disappeared from sight.

"Our turn," Lexa said, and reached out with her power. The three of them vanished.

Even taking the longer route Shalimar was the first one across the road, and by the time the others joined her she had the rental office's anti-theft measures scoped out. The main obstacle was the pair of security cameras mounted on a tall pole. Lexa powered up and took aim, but Brennan stayed her hand.

"Don't," he said in a low tone, "Your lasers would be seen. We need to be a little more low key."

She shrugged, acquiescing to his expertise in this area. "Well, you're the one with the degree in grand theft auto."

Brennan ignored the weak jibe. He spotted a plastic grocery bag caught on a bush and gave it to Shalimar, gesturing at the cameras mounted back to back on the smooth, slender wooden post.

"Can you cover them with this?"

A flicker of something he couldn't read crossed her face and disappeared just as quickly. She gauged the distance and nodded, stuffing the end of the bag into the pocket of her brown denims. While the others waited beyond camera range she slipped like a wraith to a spot at the base where the cameras couldn't pick her up. Then with a mighty bound she was airborne, leaping straight up. She snagged the pole just below the cameras with hands and feet as lightly as a cat, her fingernails digging in to give her purchase. Working fast, she released one hand to grab the bag and drape it over both cameras, notching one of the handles over the base. Tomorrow when the workers arrived it would look like the wind had borne it aloft and it just happened to snag on the cameras – just a fluke, no reason for suspicion. Her task accomplished, she dropped lightly back to earth.

Brennan picked out their ride, choosing the largest vehicle on the lot to most comfortably accommodate his 6'4" frame. The blue Chevy Tahoe four-door SUV was parked far to the back of the lot, boxed in by a four-square block of cars. The rental car people probably thought it was theft-proof in that position, but then again most car thieves didn't have the advantage of having Jesse Kilmartin as part of their crew. Jesse's ability to phase himself and things around him would allow them to drive right through the obstructing cars. The empty space left behind probably wouldn't be discovered for days, which was another reason Brennan chose it.

He moved to the driver's door, as it was the side he encountered first. Using his body to hide the discharge from chance discovery from the gawkers, he sent a few amps of voltage into the vehicle lock. It yielded immediately. He grasped the latch and opened the door, but before he could make another move Shalimar appeared out of nowhere, interposing herself between him and the driver's seat. The slight jerk of her chin and the adamant stare told him in no uncertain terms what she had in mind. This was one time he was going to leave the piloting to someone else – that someone being her - but she also wanted him where she could keep a close eye on him.

Brennan wasn't stupid; he knew he was in no condition to even consider driving. With the feral following closely he went around to the passenger side. She stepped in front of him and opened the door. He eased in carefully, cradling his right arm, trying not to jostle it and biting back a rich expletive when he was unsuccessful. When he was in he reached over and fed a pulse of energy to the ignition. The engine caught with a satisfying rumble.

Shal had already hit the interior locking switch, allowing Jesse and Lexa to climb into the back. As Brennan settled into his seat she saw a shiver race over his body. Immediately she stripped off her faux-snakeskin jacket and stepped up on the running board to cover him with it, draping one sleeve over his perforated shoulder.

"Lean forward a little so I can tuck this behind you."

"I'm fine. You keep it – it's cool out."

Giving that nonsensical statement the complete disregard it deserved, she put her hand to the back of his neck and pressed gently but insistently. He obeyed without further comment. She had already noted that the bloodstain on the front of his shirt from the slug's exit was larger than before; now she could also see that blood from the entrance wound in his back had soaked through his jacket. What she really needed was something to press against both holes to help block the flow, but there was nothing clean available. She would have cut the end of her blouse and used that, but it was too flimsy and porous to do any good. The best she could do was to smooth her jacket sleeve carefully over the entrance and stretch the rest of the lightweight garment across his broad chest, tucking the other sleeve around him to hold it in place. It barely made it. "I wouldn't want you to bleed all over this expensive upholstery," she teased lightly. The corners of his mouth kicked up, recognizing her attempt at humor for the mask it was.

They dropped again when she hauled on the seat belt, pulling out plenty of slack. He opened his mouth to protest that he didn't need to be belted in like a kid in a car seat, but closed it with a snap when she glared at him. He didn't see that particular look very often, her _my-way-or-else_ look, but when he did it always gave him pause. Sheer cussedness made him challenge that look a few times, so he was familiar with what _or else_ entailed. The way he was feeling this small battle just wasn't worth the fight. He let his head fall back against the head rest in token of surrender. Besides, it was a novel sensation – and to his surprise, an oddly satisfying one – to have her fuss over him like this.

As Shalimar worked over him she saw his face take on an odd sort of expression, as if he suddenly realized that he was no longer in control here and he couldn't quite figure out how it happened. The look would have amused her if she hadn't been intent on other things. She knew a seat belt wasn't a device he often used, any more than she did, but he damn well was going to use it this time. If he didn't like it, tough. She reached around him and snapped the buckle in place, adjusting the harness level and straps to her liking with a couple of quick, efficient moves. When tightened the shoulder strap would put at least a little pressure on the front wound, perhaps slow the bleeding a bit. As for her jacket, it would serve a better purpose keeping him warm than her. The last thing she needed was for him to get chilled and go into shock. She would fire up the heater and the seat warmers as soon as she got in; that should help.

Sparing a glance to the back, she saw that Lexa was leaning over Jesse in a similar manner, almost hovering as she helped get him settled, belting him in just as Shal had done for Brennan. That was interesting. Equally interesting was the warm, almost wondering look Jesse was wearing. Filing that little tidbit in the back of her mind for future analysis, Shal stepped off the running board and closed the door, then hurried around the front of the vehicle and hopped up behind the wheel. After adjusting the seat and mirrors to her petite size, she put the SUV into gear and glanced over her shoulder.

"Ready, Jess?"

The molecular mutant placed his hands flat on the seat on either side of his body and drew in a deep breath. Energy flashed in the atmosphere as he reached out with his power and turned both the vehicle and its occupants intangible. Shalimar eased off the brake and coasted through the surrounding cars like a ghost. She stopped once they were clear.

Jesse reverted them back to normal and reiterated his earlier question.

"I'll say it again – where the hell do we go now? I don't suppose you've had a chance to set up a safe house."

The query was directed to Brennan. Acquiring secure locations had been one of his assignments when they started making contingency plans, as he had the most experience of any of them in evading official radar.

"I know a place."

"Fine." Shalimar glided the Tahoe forward but left the headlights off for the time being, as she didn't need them to see. "We'll stop by Dr. Marcus' office first, then head for this 'place' of yours."

Brennan rolled his head over to look at her. "No. It's too risky."

"He's right," Lexa agreed, "The Dominion knows about Dr. Marcus. They would have put him under surveillance before this whole thing started, just in case."

The Tahoe jerked a little as the feral brought it to a halt in the agency driveway. It was a valid point, but it didn't address the immediate need. "Someone else, then. I'm sure you have connections just shady enough to get you and Jesse patched up without asking too many questions."

"One or two," Brennan admitted, not that he was going to take them there. Sure, if Jesse had been badly hurt he would have risked the possibility of a Dominion ambush by doing what Shalimar was suggesting, but the molecular, though obviously hurting, was just as obviously still functional. That gave Brennan a better option than attempting to seek medical attention from a source he may or may not be able to trust. His own condition didn't matter. He'd been shot before; at least this time the bullet wasn't still in him. He'd survive until they were all safe. He cast a veiled glance at Shalimar's tense countenance, trying to guesstimate how much persuasion he was going to have to use to get her to go along with him when she found out exactly what his plan was. Probably a lot. "But I've got something else in mind."

"It will have to wait," Lexa broke in sharply, "Look over there."

She pointed back across the street. The woods they so recently left were alive with small, moving points of light, like men with flashlights coming through the trees. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what they were searching for. To their left they could also see the headlights of two vehicles moving up the drive toward the main road.

Jesse scrunched forward the inch the restraint device allowed. "Think they see us?"

The sharp click of Shalimar's seatbelt was abnormally loud in the darkness of the cabin.

"If they haven't yet, they will in a minute," she said.

At that moment the tiny beams of light all began moving rapidly toward the two cars on the road.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Once the walls and ceiling stopped reverberating, Daniel Barrington, the Master of the Dominion Council, collected himself and brushed a cloud of dust off his five thousand dollar Italian suit. The explosion overhead had been a powerful one, raining dirt and debris down even on this protected chamber. Exactly what had exploded he had no idea, but he knew who set it off. Adam Kane had momentarily torn free from his guard, yelled a warning to his mutant friends, and pressed something on his watch. The resulting blast had been immediate.

This area was part of a specially modified wing of Dominion headquarters, so it wasn't nearly as damaged as it might have been. Barrington had escaped injury by being under the heavily-reinforced ceiling. Two members of his personal security team, though, hadn't been as lucky. They had been only a couple of steps beyond that framework, but it was far enough to get them caught in the curtain of falling rubble. The collapse should have crushed Mutant X as well, since they were well outside the protected area and even blocked by a force field, but Kane's warning had allowed Jesse Kilmartin the brace of seconds he needed to take action. The molecular mutant had used his ability to alter his physical density, and that of persons or objects he was in direct contact with, to save his teammates from harm. No doubt he had also used it to get them all safely out of the building. The Council Master's countenance hardened with lethal intent. Escape they might, but the respite would be short-lived. By challenging the Dominion Mutant X had signed their own death warrants. He would have their heads on a platter by morning.

It wasn't just the explosions they had to answer for. Alarms had already been going off throughout the facility, and reports of massive computer failures had been pouring in from every department. The cause appeared to be an inordinately virulent and destructive virus downloaded into their system that, once it caught, started disrupting electronic systems, communications, and even power throughout the headquarters. He could see Lexa Pierce's hand in this; she must have done it in the brief amount of time between when she escaped from her escort and when she was finally brought down outside this very chamber. Fortunately the area he was in now was completely self-sufficient, with its own water, air and power run by a separate server, so all systems, particularly security, were functional and the data intact, no thanks to Lexa. She would pay dearly for her treachery

First, however, he had to get out of here to a more secure location, as he could hear the intermittent rumbling of ancillary explosions going off throughout the complex. His two remaining guards had already started off toward the emergency exit escorting Adam Kane and the ancient man who lived and worked in this ultra-secure suite. Barrington gazed down at his two fallen operatives, his lips curling in a sneer of disgust. He had no idea if they were dead or merely unconscious, but the bottom line was that they would be of no use to him for the immediate future. Turning his back on their crumpled forms, he left them to their fate as he followed the others toward safety.

Adam Kane stood quietly next to the burly guard who had dragged him away from his friends. He had given some thought to ramming his elbow into the man's solar plexus when he was pulled through what he recognized as an electronic anti-pathogenic field, but then dismissed the notion. For one thing, he had no idea where he was or where they were going. For another, there was a second enforcer to deal with, which could have been problematic. The wisdom of that decision became apparent when they cleared the barrier. Two more security people, communication devices in their ears and guns in their shoulder holsters, were waiting for them in front of a private elevator. That pretty much precluded any escape attempt, unless something extraordinary happened to even the odds a bit.

Such an event wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility; the only question was whether or not he would survive to take advantage of it should it happen. There were rumblings above and beyond the chamber; strong, like bomb blasts, some close enough to shake dust from the ceiling, and they were growing in scope and number. Their origins puzzled him. When he programmed their airship, the Double Helix, to detonate upon receiving a certain electronic signal he hadn't expected it to start a chain reaction throughout the complex, but it seemed that might be what was happening. It sounded like the whole place was going up. If they didn't get out of here soon he might just get buried beneath his own handiwork, and wouldn't that be a kick in the head?

He could only hope that Shalimar and the others had gotten out safely. Adam had seen Jesse react quickly to protect the team after the initial explosion, but he had no way of knowing if they had been able to get clear before the rest of the dominoes started to fall. It was likely they had, considering their skill and resourcefulness, but he had no way to be sure. Assuming they managed to get away, he surmised that they would find someplace to regroup, like a safe house of some sort. After that, there was no telling what would happen. They might try to search for him, or they might be too busy evading the Dominion's bloodhounds to even consider trying to find him. He was on his own.

Adam's gaze fell upon the aged figure standing a short distance away, supported on one side by the second bodyguard. The Dominion called him 'The Creator', and whatever else he was, there was no doubt that he was the organization's creative heart and soul, the scientific genius behind their mission and purpose. Supposedly he had been running the organization since the 1800s, using his incredible intellect to, among other things, develop therapies to greatly extend his lifespan. For Adam his title held another, more personal meaning. The old man claimed that Adam was his clone; that the parents Adam remembered were merely loyal employees specially chosen to nurture and safeguard this most precious of his creations. Every aspect of Adam's life had been shaped according to his master plan, so that one day he might call upon this younger version of himself to complete the work of redefining the human race along genetically superior lines.

That there could be any truth to the man's assertion was something Adam was still trying to wrap his head around. There was no denying that the resemblance was remarkable, even accounting for the ravages of age. The science was certainly possible today, but that it could have been done five decades earlier was an astounding premise. Adam shook his head, reminding himself that it could just as easily be a lie. Until he could get his hands on a blood sample from the old man and do his own DNA testing, he wouldn't let himself accept the statement at face value. He had more important things to think about.

Uppermost in his thoughts was the swirling hologram the Creator had shown him earlier of a DNA matrix. It was similar to the one he had been working on when Mutant X tracked him down, dealing with the instability of mutant DNA, but with one very important difference. Embedded within the Creator's complex formula was the missing variable that put the entire equation together. Adam had known instantly that he was staring at his own personal Holy Grail, the culmination of research he had spent practically his entire adult life seeking. With that matrix he could stabilize his friends and all mutantkind; could perhaps even cure the terrible diseases that plagued the human race. And that was only the beginning. There was no telling the things he could learn from this man. Locked inside his head was two centuries worth of scientific secrets, knowledge he was willing to share. The prospect of working with him thrilled and enthralled Adam, so much so that for a moment he forgot the Dominion and what it had become.

Then the barrier shimmered and Daniel Barrington stepped through. For Adam it was like having a bucket of ice water thrown in his face. In that cruel, arrogant face was the deep-seated corruption, the soulless evil of the Dominion personified. This man took knowledge that should have been used for the betterment of all mankind and turned it to his own twisted, perverted ends. Somehow, some way, Adam must find a way to stop him.

One of the security men approached the Master of the Dominion Council, his manner deferential.

"Sir," he said. Barrington thought his name might have been Foster, but he really didn't know for sure, and frankly had no interest in the matter. "We have come to evacuate you and the Creator. Fires are raging out of control in sections R1, C3, C4 and H1."

"We need to safeguard the Creator's data, and scrub the server."

"Already being handled, sir."

"Is my pilot standing by?"

"Waiting for you at the auxiliary hanger, sir."

"Has Security apprehended Mutant X?"

"Negative, sir. Security is at present engaging a second attacking force."

A low rumble and the sound of something heavy crashing behind a nearby wall made them all duck instinctively. Foster straightened and continued with his report.

"Shortly after the first explosion three helicopter gunships swept in from the west. Ground troops were landed, and I've received reports of possible mutant abilities among them. Between them and the fires, we cannot hold this facility."

"Very well. Let's go."

They entered the elevator. One of the guards jabbed his thumb at the lone button. The doors closed silently behind them.

Barrington ground his teeth in frustration as they began their descent. So that was why additional explosions continued to rattle the complex. He knew who the gunships belonged to. Only Damien Acosta would be arrogant enough to attack Dominion headquarters so openly. The renegade mutant had been building up to this for months, making guerilla strikes of increasing boldness on Dominion holdings utilizing teams of operatives grafted with strands of mutant DNA. If he didn't know better Barrington would have suspected Acosta of joining forces with Mutant X, using them as his stalking horse to take down Dominion defenses, but that couldn't be. This attack must have been planned for some time, whereas Mutant X only moved after two of their number had been taken into custody. The timing was just pure bad luck, or perhaps Acosta merely took advantage of the circumstances. He would know soon enough.

After a few minutes the elevator eased to a smooth stop. The doors opened to reveal an open area about the size of a basketball court, low ceilinged and framed in concrete, with a wide tunnel jutting off to one side. Lined up facing the tunnel mouth were three armored Hummer 3s, their heavily-armed drivers standing in front of them, looking quite formidable in the charcoal gray body suits worn by the Dominion's elite troops. Barrington strode imperiously up to the lead vehicle and climbed in, not even deigning to observe the others being bundled into the remaining Hummers with different degrees of solicitude. He just ordered his driver to get moving.

The small convoy traveled down the long escape tunnel, the track lighting in the ceiling throwing flashes of light almost like a strobe ball as they sped along, the sounds of battle fading behind them. Barrington ignored it, his own thoughts on the situation at hand. He hadn't expected to have to deal with both Acosta and Mutant X at the same time, but it could be managed. Mutant X was the weaker of the two foes, and now that they were without their home base, they were vulnerable and no doubt on the run. With the Dominion's vast resources it shouldn't be difficult to locate and secure them. First, though, he had to deal with Damien Acosta, and to do that he had to get to their fallback facility, codenamed 'Palinor'. He just wished he didn't have to divide his forces right now. From the sound of things outside, he might need all the firepower he could muster.

In point of fact, though, he couldn't have done things any other way. The timing had been forced upon him. It had only recently been brought to his attention that before he disappeared, Adam Kane had been able to calculate with uncanny precision when each member of Mutant X would have the inherent instability of their mutant genetic structure spin fatally out of control. On the heels of that was the even more astounding news that Jesse Kilmartin had already passed his so-called expiry date, indicating that he had been cured. Barrington had to act quickly. He instructed Stephen Thornton, the Council's liaison with Mutant X, to order Lexa Pierce to deliver the molecular mutant to the Dominion. Thornton warned him that it would bring the formidable team down on their heads, but Barrington couldn't see where he had any other choice. Acosta's mole on the Council still hadn't been identified. Kilmartin, with his stable genetic structure, was too great a prize to risk having Acosta get his hands on him first.

As for Mutant X, Barrington conceded that they could be trouble, but with Lexa Pierce reassigned to a Dominion in-house strike team and Kilmartin in custody, the team would be split in half, their considerable threat ratio minimized. Fox and Mulwray could then be collected separately. He had always planned to terminate the mutant team eventually, when their usefulness to the Dominion came to an end; the news about Kilmartin's cure merely precipitated matters. Lexa's rebellion, though somewhat surprising, wasn't entirely unanticipated. What he hadn't foreseen was the depth of Lexa's treachery. The computer virus she downloaded into their system had opened the door to Acosta's attack. Vital communications and electronic defenses had been rendered inoperative, allowing the renegade to sweep in with greatly diminished resistance.

This was turning out to be a fiasco of epic proportions. Despite all the security measures they had in place, the Dominion headquarters was lost. The rest of the Council should be safe; they would have been evacuated first thing via other underground routes. Other personnel would gather at predetermined staging areas. Emergency protocols would have done a complete system wipe, although how successful that would be in light of Lexa's virus was open to question.

As bad as it was, the situation could have been worse. The Creator was safe, and with him, all his research. The widespread fires would destroy everything, denying the facility and its data to Acosta. Plus, they managed to acquire Adam Kane, something they had been trying to accomplish for more than a year. The Creator had insisted that he needed his creation to achieve his ambition of attaining total mastery of the human genetic code, of creating a race of genetically perfect and superior beings. Kane would no doubt refuse to help, but Barrington didn't think he would have any difficulty in getting him to cooperate. His own sentimentality and his feelings toward the freaks he created were his weakness. All he had to do was torture one or more of them before Kane's eyes, and the scientist would capitulate quickly enough.

The important thing now was to get to Palinor. Once there he could assess the damage to the organization and marshal resources from across the country, even worldwide. Every one of Acosta's known locations would immediately be attacked, their data and resources plundered, and then razed to the ground. Every surviving senior level operative would be relentlessly interrogated and then dispatched. They had to root out this cancer once and for all, destroy every single cell, overwhelm him by sheer weight of numbers. Nor would there be any taking of prisoners, not even Acosta himself. This was now war to the death.

The concrete floor began to slope gradually upward. Presently they came to a set of thick steel doors with a red sensor like the eye of a great metal Cyclops pulsing above it. The convoy slowed to a halt. Barrington pulled back his sleeve and punched a code into the device on his wrist. The light blinked twice, and then with a groan the doors slid ponderously aside. Twenty feet beyond was a second pair as tall and thick as the first. Again they halted, and again Barrington punched in a code, different from the first. As before the doors parted.

The Hummers drove through and came to a stop inside what looked like a cavernous warehouse. At the far end was an enormous garage-type door that retracted along tracks in the grimy ceiling. A sign outside proclaimed it to be a distribution facility for low-end furniture, but instead of large shipping cartons and pallets of product, the cement floor was dotted with a variety of airships. The most impressive of the group was the one that stood before them, a black helicopter with an opaque windshield and slowly rotating blades, its sleek lines only somewhat marred by the weaponry bristling from both sides. Barrington stepped out of his Hummer, his eyes warming at the sight of it. He'd always had a soft spot for this particular craft. It was both elegant and lethal, a dichotomy he always appreciated.

As he strode toward it, the big door at the far end of the hanger began to rise, the metal moaning its reluctance to move. Beyond it the sound of rotors could be heard, and two helicopters, resting on their skids, their blades not quite stopped, faced the warehouse, their spotlights spilling their glow across the floor in a widening pool. A heavy gust of wind rushed into the space, bringing in a swirling curtain of grit that made Barrington raise his arm to shield his eyes. When he could see again he beheld the figure of a man standing alone silhouetted against the backlight. Barrington had no doubt who it was.

The security detail reacted instantly. Kane and the Creator were thrust back into their respective Hummers for safety, and the lethal sound of multiple weapons being cocked crackled ominously through the air. Before a single gun could fire a pair of blurs swept in from either side of the solitary figure and pounced upon the Dominion agents, wresting the weapons from their collective grasps in the blink of an eye. The bodyguards found themselves staring incredulously at their empty hands. When Barrington's mind caught up with what little his eyes had seen, he beheld two men festooned with Dominion-issue weapons standing on either side of the silhouetted man.

He started forward now, and as he strode confidently across the hanger others appeared from the lights and fell in behind him, a rough, gritty-looking bunch that looked more like a street gang than high-level operatives. Their torn jeans, garish tattoos and unsavory appearance were in jarring contrast to their leader's flawless and extremely expensive attire. He came to a halt ten feet in front of the Dominion group. A second man, somewhat better dressed than the rest in khakis and a sport shirt, stopped two paces back, with the rest of his minions fanning out behind him.

"How did you find us?" Barrington snarled.

"Do you refer to Dominion Headquarters or this supposedly innocent commercial structure?" Damien Acosta, for that was who it was, shrugged lightly. "A good strategist learns everything he can about his opponent before engaging him. I have studied your organization for a very long time. I know your strengths, your weaknesses, and a great many of your secrets. For example, this underground escape route."

"In other words, your spy on the Council told you."

Acosta merely smiled, his white teeth gleaming in contrast to his deep mocha skin.

Barrington felt his rage building, hot but impotent. With his men disarmed, and facing what were no doubt a pack of Acosta's manufactured mutants, he was helpless to do anything but bluster, but he had to know. Though he was well aware his life was now measured in minutes, still he demanded, "Who is it?"

The other's smile widened. "What difference does it make? Your headquarters is destroyed, your Council scattered, and very soon your hidden empire will cease to exist. The Dominion's days of arbitrarily deciding who does what in the scientific world, and who lives or dies, are through."

"Supplanted by yourself, I suppose."

Acosta's expression hardened. "Why not? At least mutantkind won't be pawns in your never-ending chess game, nor will we be mere lab rats in your filthy experiments. It ends here."

"Really? What do you call your grafted freaks over there?"

"I call them employees who chose to take advantage of an opportunity that was offered to them." Acosta opened his hands, the gesture encompassing his minions. " _Chose_ , Barrington, not had it forced on them. Therein is the difference between us."

"Liar! The timing of your raid couldn't be more transparent. Or was it just _coincidence_ that you attacked right after we acquired Jesse Kilmartin? You want him just as badly as we do, and for the same reason!"

"Of course it wasn't coincidence." Acosta's smile returned, became mocking. "Anyone with half a brain could have predicted that Mutant X would retaliate if you attacked them. I merely took advantage of your stupidity and allowed them to weaken your defenses before ordering my people in. That your headquarters is now in flames is entirely due to your own arrogance in underestimating both Mutant X's abilities and their strength of will. How you ever became the Council Master is beyond me." One long finger reached up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder who they will choose to replace you."

The implication couldn't have been plainer if it had been posted on a highway billboard. Barrington paled, but he stood his ground.

"Killing me will gain you nothing. The Dominion has more resources than you can possibly imagine. No matter where you go, or how many grafted thugs you create, the Council will hunt you and your freaks down like rabid dogs."

Acosta shook his head. "Empty threats, Barrington? Somehow I expected more eloquence from you." He gestured to his aide, who promptly stepped to his side.

"Sims, have Dietz and Goff drive the Creator to my helicopter and help him aboard. Remind them that the gentleman is extremely old and very fragile. I expect them to handle him as if he were a Ming vase. Then gather up the others and hold them until we leave."

"Yes, sir."

The lieutenant stepped off smartly, singling out two of the men and giving them their instructions. At his next command the rest of the squad moved to encircle the Dominion agents. As a hint to their prisoners, one of them brought his hands together and created little tongues of flame, which he held in his palms. The agents got the message.

Adam had been close enough to hear the exchange between Acosta and Barrington. Now as the two grafted mutants climbed into the vehicle with the Creator and drove it toward the waiting helicopters, he opened the door of his Hummer and got out, marching right up to the mutant.

"Where are you taking him?" he demanded. Although he had never met Damien Acosta, he knew of him, enough to realize that he was about to exchange one captor for another. He also knew that Acosta likely wanted him for the same reason as the Dominion, so he wasn't concerned for his physical safety. He just wanted to make sure that he and the Creator ended up in the same place. He needed that matrix.

The polished mutant greeted him warmly.

"Ah, Dr. Kane. It is an honor to finally meet you." He extended his hand, which Adam promptly ignored. Truculence radiated off him like sunlight from glass.

"What are you going to do with him? And with me?"

"We'll get to that in due time, Doctor. Welcome to my organization. We have similar goals, you and I, and although I know you have no reason to trust me at present, I'm sure we can come to a mutually advantageous agreement toward attaining those goals. In the meantime….don't do that."

Acosta's head suddenly lifted toward the vehicle he so recently quitted. One of the Dominion operatives, attempting to take advantage of the distraction Kane was providing, had been unobtrusively edging his way to the still-open door of the vehicle, no doubt toward the weapon Adam remembered seeing there. He froze now, his body quivering with barely-suppressed frustration and rage. His eyes darted back and forth between Acosta and the open door, as if measuring the distance and weighing his chances.

"You wouldn't make it, you know," Damien said to him, and there seemed to be a touch of regret in his voice. He sighed. "But I suppose I should remove the temptation."

He gestured. The Dominion operative went rigid, as if seized in an invisible grip. He then rose into the air and sailed gently over the Hummer, coming to a hovering stop before elegant mutant.

"I respect your devotion to duty," Damien said to the man dangling above him, "Truly, I do. As such, I would even consider employing you … any of you," he added, raising his voice to include the captives now seated on the floor with their hands clasped on the backs of their heads, "….in my organization." He returned his attention to the one hovering before him. "Right now, though, I'm afraid I can't allow you to cause difficulties."

He gestured again. The operative convulsed once and went still. Acosta lowered him carefully to the ground, where he sprawled bonelessly. A couple of his comrades started to rise, but slowly sank back to the ground when confronted by Acosta's guards brandishing myriad forms of energy in their hands. Appalled by the brutal callousness of the act, Adam whirled on the telekinetic.

"Murderer!" he spat.

The mutant shook his head. "Calm yourself, Doctor Kane. He isn't dead, merely stunned. You may examine him yourself, if you like. Unlike Barrington here, I don't kill just to satisfy a whim."

Adam didn't believe that for a minute, but he didn't waste his breath refuting it. One didn't argue with sociopaths. Instead, he immediately knelt down beside the fallen operative and began searching for a heartbeat. To his immense relief, he detected a strong pulse. Respiration was also regular, and though unconscious, his color was decent. Adam rose slowly.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

Damien shrugged. "Suit yourself. However, it's getting late, and we really must be on our way." He waved his hand, indicating that Adam should precede him. Realizing that he had no choice, Adam contented himself with a fulminating glare at his new captor and started off in the direction indicated, with Acosta a couple of steps behind. Sims ranged up behind Barrington, taking him by the arm and leading him off. Two more grafted street thugs completed the procession, falling into step on either side as the party marched across the hanger to the pair of waiting helicopters.

 _Author's note: I know that the pace here is slower than what my readers are used to from me, but since the series has been off the air for eleven years, I felt that a recap (with my own twist) was warranted. Chapter 3 will see the action pick up considerably._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

"Start out easy," Brennan advised, "Don't let on that we've seen them."

Shalimar rolled her eyes at this needless bit of direction but said nothing as she guided the big SUV smoothly into traffic, away from the Dominion facility.

"That's good. Now just go with the flow."

Shalimar grit her teeth but didn't respond. Brennan wasn't used to being a passenger, and he was wounded besides. She could afford to make some allowances.

Lexa twisted around, her eyes glued on the approximate location of the hidden driveway. She could hear sirens coming now; first responders coming to fight the fire and deal with survivors. They had gotten clear just in time.

They weren't the only ones. Three identical black SUVs emerged in sequence at the head of the lane, marking it for the incoming fire engines. The lead vehicle paused only briefly before turning onto the boulevard in their direction, the others following in their wake. Lexa muttered something short and rude under her breath.

"They've made us," she announced.

Brennan glanced at the side mirror.

"Damn – there's three of them."

Shalimar simultaneously checked the rearview mirror. How had the bad guys picked up on them so quickly? She should have had enough of a start to be able to blend into traffic, or at least made them hesitate before fixating on this vehicle. She passed a car with New Mexico license plates, and the answer hit her. This vehicle, being stolen from the middle of a block of cars, didn't have any plates. Worse, because like other feral creatures she had excellent night vision, she hadn't turned on the headlights. All the bad guys had to do was put two and two together. They might as well have been wearing a neon sign, not only for the bad guys, but also for any cops they happened to pass. Berating herself under her breath, she flipped her headlights on. Her eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. The three were in a line, black and sleek like a trio of soldier ants, and were working their way toward them through the light traffic.

"Not exactly subtle, are they?"

"Don't give up the game yet," the reformed felon next to her cautioned, "Increase your speed gradually and keep it steady. Try to keep some of the traffic between them and us."

Shalimar silently counted to ten.

The cars behind them shifted formation, with one behind them in the left lane, the other two stacked in the right. Shal gave a second's worth of thought to changing lanes to give herself more room to maneuver, but discarded the idea. The bad guys would be moving on them in any second now; there was no point in allowing them an additional avenue of attack. The concrete highway divider on her left afforded them some protection. It also boxed them in on that side, but up ahead she could see an intersection. The barrier would break for the left turn lane, which gave her an idea. Now all she had to do was get there.

Brennan kept his eyes glued to his side mirror. The black SUVs had cleared the remaining traffic, and now the front car in the right lane was gaining fast.

"They're going for the squeeze," he said, "Lexa, I'll hit the leader; you take the second." He reached over and pressed the button to lower his window. There was no sense in blowing it out and winding up with a face-full of glass. The blast of cold air on the back of his neck told him that Lexa had done the same. He concentrated, and electricity began to dance between the fingers of his left hand. He held it low, the seconds ticking off in his head as he built the charge.

With a roar of acceleration the first car surged up on their flank, the rear window lowering as a blond woman shifted herself into a striking position. The second car followed, while the remaining one hugged their bumper, preventing Shalimar from slamming on the brakes. The blond in the first car made a sort of flinging motion with her hand, and a flurry of some kind of darts sprayed through the Tahoe. Nearly simultaneously the back and right cargo area windows shattered under a barrage of nickel-sized purple hail from the second car. Lexa, who had released her seatbelt and pivoted up to her knees in preparation for her attack, ducked under the various missiles. A hand grabbed her ankle, and the peculiar sensation of Jesse's massing power flowed through her. Encased in this living Kevlar, she reared up, her hands blazing red.

At precisely that instant Brennan blasted the hood of the first car. The engine exploded in spectacular fashion, sending the hood cartwheeling over the top. The lead SUV swerved to the right, causing the car behind it to likewise swerve and glance off the lead's side door, spoiling Lexa's shot. Her laser bolt hit behind the driver instead of through him, boring through his headrest and setting it on fire. Then they were past.

Their respite was short-lived. Daggers of fire and beams of green energy lanced through the shattered rear window from the car behind them, sending the mutant team diving for what meager cover they could find. Brennan flinched as something hot and fast whizzed past his ear.

"Floor it!" he shouted to Shalimar.

That did it. Allowances be damned.

"Don't tell me how to drive!" she snapped.

She slammed on the brake and yanked savagely on the wheel, slewing the Tahoe's back end to the right. Jesse locked his arms around Lexa's waist to keep her from being thrown out. The trailing car likewise braked hard, sending its passengers tumbling. Shalimar then hit the gas and bounced over the turning lane curb into oncoming traffic, causing at least three cars to panic-swerve and stop. Ignoring their angry shouts and blaring horns, she cut across the traffic and raced the wrong way up the on ramp, veering left against the stoplight.

They were on a four lane boulevard with lines of strip malls and stand-alone stores on either side. Shalimar spun the big Tahoe into a fast right, darting into the alley behind a grocery super store. She hoped that she had gotten there before the remaining two pursuers had gained the boulevard, but no such luck. A quick glance in the mirror saw the unmarred black SUV just turning into the alley, well back, but coming on. There was only the one, though, which was the good news. Lexa must have scored after all. That made the odds a bit more even.

She got to the end of the alley and whipped another quick right – and almost ran head-on into the second black SUV coming to cut them off. She swung hard left, missing their bumper by inches, nearly kissed the corner of the adjacent restaurant, instead sailing through a pair of tables with chairs. She corrected in time to miss a couple coming out of the restaurant, but not in time to avoid plowing up and over a landscape island. Chunks of mulch and a medium-sized shrub pelted the windshield before they hit the pavement again with a teeth-rattling jolt.

She heard a sharp grunt from her right, but had no time to do anything about it as the two SUVs converged, coming up on either side. She rocketed across the parking lot toward the street, her pursuers nipping at her heels like a pair of jackals. Fusillades of fire launched from both rear quarters; purple hail from the right, fire daggers from the left. Jesse shouted from the back.

"I've got this side!"

He slapped his left hand to his car door and concentrated. The whole left side of the car massed out, the daggers bouncing off. Shalimar angled to the right toward another island, this one containing a tree, hoping to either run that pursuer into it or at least make him veer off. Lexa scrambled back to her window, keeping low, and peeked out a corner. Suddenly she popped up, her hair whipping around wildly, her left hand blazing. She fired, and this time her shot was true. She hit the driver squarely, her laser burning through window and flesh, killing him instantly. Two seconds later the car slammed into the tree Shal had been aiming it for. Two down.

The big Tahoe bolted from the parking lot with a stomach-churning left onto the cross street at the end of the strip mall, the tires squealing as they fought for purchase. Shalimar dodged a small pickup truck then, seeing no one else ahead of them, put the hammer down. The speedometer climbed rapidly as they tore down the road, the last remaining SUV in hot pursuit.

The lane markers looked like white dots as they fled into the night, Lexa and their pursuers trading occasional shots. Thankfully the traffic had become non-existent as they hurtled toward the outskirts of the city. Streetlights stretched out, casting brief glows on long stretches of fields and brush lining each side of the road.

They were holding their own in this race, but Shalimar knew that it couldn't go on much longer. They had started with only about a quarter of a tank of gas, as rental companies weren't generally inclined toward keeping unused vehicles fueled unnecessarily, and between the high-stress driving and the heaters blasting at full power, they had to be gulping the petrol. Shalimar had no idea what the Tahoe's mpg rating was, but a quick glance at the fuel gauge showed that they were getting dangerously low. They were running out of options fast.

Almost immediately that became the least of her worries. Through the open windows she heard a sound that made her blood freeze. From a distance too great for the others to pick up yet came the faint whap-whap-whap of a helicopter. It was heading in their direction.

Shalimar knew that if she hadn't dealt with the remaining SUV before the helicopter got there they would be in a bad way. They would be caught in a deadly crossfire with very limited defenses. They had Jesse's ability to mass out objects as he just had with the side of the Tahoe, but it took a lot of energy to affect something that size. He couldn't hope to keep it up for more than a couple of minutes. Lexa's lasers were deadly, but Shalimar wasn't sure of their effective range, and Brennan's lighting was questionable at this point due to his physical condition. In any event, both would best be saved for the helicopter. Taking out the pursuing SUV was up to her.

Peering through the hole-pocked windshield, Shalimar could see in intersection up ahead. Before it, an LED sign off to the right announced a construction zone; orange cones were narrowing the road to the right lane, while concrete barriers outlined either side. With her feral eyesight she could see the right shoulder dropping off, and in the grass some stacked rebar grids waiting to be laid in what would be an additional lane. She formulated her plan quickly. The streetlight was far enough away from the point where the road narrowed, and as intent on them as the other driver was, he might not see it in the dark. She just had to time it right.

She pressed the accelerator harder, wincing at the increased demand on their fuel supply while silently begging the Tahoe to move even faster. After a second or two the other car also hit the gas. As they flashed into the top of the bottleneck Shalimar yelled, "Jesse, grab Lexa!" and slammed on the brakes.

Tires shrieked like souls in torment. Jesse seized Lexa before she could be thrown forward, dragging her against his chest and massing out his arms. Behind them, the SUV's driver also stomped on his brakes, but there wasn't enough time. Having already seen how Jesse could mass out the car, he was left with three split-second choices: he could slam into the back end of the Tahoe, likely causing little damage to it but catastrophic damage to himself; he could swerve into the concrete barrier with the same result, or he could try to cut around it through the grass on the other side of the shoulder. He did the only thing he could, wrenching savagely to the right. By the time he saw the construction materials it was too late; the SUV's front end dropped and he hit the pile of rebars. The momentum kept them going, pitching them end over end into the ditch. They finally came to a stop, upside down, with tendrils of smoke wafting from the engine.

Shalimar didn't wait to see the results of her handiwork, but already had the big vehicle moving forward again. She hadn't taken a chance on the black SUV hitting them, only applying her brakes long enough for the other driver to realize what was happening and be forced to react. Now the others could hear the helicopter; it was coming in low and nearly on them. Shal gunned the engine, burning rubber as the powerful vehicle leaped forward. They spurted clear of the construction just as someone in the chopper opened fire. The Tahoe went into a weave, bullets splattering all around them, then the airship shot past.

Shalimar cut the headlights to make them harder to see, thankful that the Chevy was navy blue and blended into the darkness. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to do them any good. The chopper kept coming back to them, making her realize that they probably had infrared scanning on board. The spotlight swept the road, trying to impale them in its merciless glare, but Shal drove like a woman possessed, careening all over the road, even bumping across the median and both shoulders, varying her speed, trying to keep them from getting a steady bead. All the while she was searching the sides of the road with her feral night vision. They needed to get to some kind of cover, anything that could give them some protection, enough that they could perhaps ambush their foes on a return pass. Hell, even a haystack would be better than nothing.

There, up ahead. It wasn't much, but it might do the trick. It's not like she had a lot of choice anyway. Shalimar didn't hesitate. She spun the wheel to the right, leaving the road at a sharp angle, blazing through some high grass and into a fallow field, heading for a stand of trees at the far end. The helicopter wheeled around, a raptor seeking its prey. At first it was confused that they weren't on the road, but after a moment picked them up again and swooped in for the kill. Shalimar swerved right, then right again, forcing their pursuer, who expected her to come back left, to pivot after them, gaining them a few precious feet.

The Tahoe rumbled over the rough terrain, even going airborne briefly over a small berm. They bounced hard, costing them ground, but that turned out to be a blessing, as it made the chopper overshoot them. Dirt sprayed from the tires as the big vehicle fought for traction, then they were hurtling forward again. It was a race now, the barrage of gunfire stitching the ground behind them, coming closer with alarming speed. They heard the _ping_ of bullets hitting the metal tailgate, and the crack of exploding glass as a taillight shattered. Shalimar swerved, fighting the wheel. The trees loomed large in the night, forcing the helicopter to break off and pull up. She stomped hard on the brakes, sending them fishtailing, but she righted the vehicle and slammed to a halt near a massive oak tree. Panting, she turned to the passengers in the back seat.

"Lexa, do you think you could hit them from this distance?"

Hugged tight against Jesse's chest, dazed from the wild ride, the tall brunette struggled to gather herself.

"I don't know. I'll try."

The helicopter had circled back, and was now hovering over the tree line. Evidently it spotted them, probably by their engine heat, because it swung over the field, losing altitude as it lined up for the kill. Lexa levered herself up through the sunroof Shalimar just opened and concentrated. No one had to tell her that she would only have one shot at this. Beside her Jesse's hand grasped her calf. He breathed deeply, focusing himself.

The spotlight spitted them in its brilliant glare. Amid the staccato chatter of machine gun fire the molecular mutant reached out, massing out the vehicle and the woman beside him who stood tall and exposed. Red fire lanced from Lexa's hands as she poured everything she had into her strikes. The first bolt missed just wide of the cockpit, but the second scored as the pilot juked hard to the left. A shower of sparks erupted from the aft portion near the engine. It spun crazily, and for a moment she thought it might crash, but no such luck. It veered away, maneuvering awkwardly, the previously-smooth purr of the engine now sounding rough and uneven as it struggled to maintain altitude. The pilot must have decided that discretion was the better part of valor; he broke off and showed them his tail. The sputtering sounds grew fainter as it ran, eventually fading out altogether.

Jesse reverted and fell back against the seat, breathing hard. Rather drained herself, Lexa wearily maneuvered back inside and flopped beside him.

"Well, that was fun."

Shalimar breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly turned to alarm when her gaze landed on the elemental to her right. Brennan was sagging limply in his seat, held upright only by the restraint device.

"Brennan!"

She jumped down, raced around the front of the Tahoe, flung open the passenger door and bounded up onto the running board.

"Was he hit?"

Jesse lurched forward, horrified that he might have failed in his efforts to protect his friends.

"I can't tell." The jacket Shalimar had so carefully covered Brennan with had long since slithered down to his lap. The smell of his blood was strong, but she couldn't determine if there was any more of it than before. She examined him quickly under the light of the overhead lamp, exploring his arms, legs and torso carefully. Her heart eased back from her throat when she found no obvious additional injuries. Carefully she peeled back the seat strap to probe his shoulder, a futile gesture since she couldn't tell if he was still bleeding unless she cut away his jacket and shirt, something she didn't want to do just yet. She eased the restraint back in place, tenderly tucked his arm back inside his jacket in a makeshift sling, then once more covered him with her jacket.

Brennan's head was lifting groggily now in response to her touch; he swallowed when she pressed her fingers to the artery in his neck, although his eyes remained closed. His pulse was a little slow and his breathing a bit labored, but that was only to be expected. It looked like he was just severely punch-drunk from the violent jostling. Shalimar felt a bit guilty about that. Each jolt had to have felt like a white-hot knife stabbing into his injured shoulder, although she knew there wasn't anything else she could have done. Most people would have long since been down for the count from the repeated shocks, but not Brennan. Her big sparkplug was as tough as they come, hot-headed sometimes, but extremely disciplined in mind and body when he needed to be. It was one of several things she loved about him.

Muffled snatches of sound began to register through the pain-induced stupor fogging Brennan's mind. As the night gradually slowed its mad spinning the fog began to dissipate, letting his senses recover and take stock of his surroundings. The jolts of acid had ceased splashing through his right shoulder; it had subsided to a general throbbing that seemed to pulse in time to his heartbeat. Below that, his arm was useless, a dead weight hanging loosely at his side. His stomach was queasy, and even the heat blasting from the vent and the built-in heater in his seat wasn't enough to counteract the chills that prickled his skin. His shoulder felt about three times its normal size, he ached all over, and his brain felt like it was mired in molasses.

All motion stopped. He heard a sound like a door opening next to him, and a lurch as someone hopped up on the running board. Small, light hands fluttered over his torso, delicately feeling his neck, chest, head and shoulders. They grasped his arm and gently replaced it inside his open jacket. He focused on those touches, using the sensations as a focal point as he clawed his way back to full awareness. The hands moved to his face, cupping it and lifting gently, the touch soothing and familiar. He knew who they belonged to.

"Bren? Can you hear me?"

That voice, soft and sultry, was unmistakable. Brennan parted heavy eyelids to see Shalimar in front of him, her eyes like bottomless pools of chocolate and filled with concern. He blinked a couple of times and opened his eyes a little wider. Shalimar was reassured to see rising awareness in their depths, and recognition in the small upward lift of the corners of his mouth when he saw her. Her thumb gently brushed his lips.

"There you are. Are you all right?"

He almost smiled. Hurting like hell after being shot with a high-powered rifle, weak from blood loss and shaky from being bounced around like a basketball, of course he wasn't all right, but that wasn't what she was asking, not precisely. What she wanted to know was first, if he sustained any additional injury that she hadn't detected, and second, his current overall condition, with particular regard to his shoulder. He stifled the automatic 'fine' he usually gave in answer to that question no matter how badly he was injured; he couldn't dismiss her feelings with such an obvious lie based purely on equally obvious machismo. They were lovers now; she deserved better. At the same time he wanted to ease her worry in a way she would believe. It was true that he felt as lousy as he probably looked, but he had handled worse. He would be able to see this through as well, and it was important to him that he did so.

"Don't tell you how to drive," he murmured, "Got it."

There was no censure in his words, no real suggestion that being knocked around by her driving was in any way payback for his condescension. Under the circumstances he would have driven the same way, and they both knew it. The teasing manner of his remark acknowledged that.

Her anxiety lessened a little more with his wisecrack. It told her what she most needed to know. "I'm glad we got that settled," she answered in a tone that matched his. It grew again when she observed the paleness of his skin in contrast to the dark stubble on his jaw, and felt the cool, clammy moisture when her fingertips brushed his brow.

Brennan took a fortifying breath, then pushed himself straighter in the seat, gritting his teeth around an almost-muffled groan as his body vigorously protested the demand he placed upon it. Shalimar's hands immediately moved to support and steady him. When the spasm had eased he let his head fall back against the head rest.

"Is everyone okay?"

As focused as was she on Brennan for a second Shalimar had forgotten that they weren't alone. She flicked quick, assessing glances at the two in the back. Lexa, though tired and windblown, seemed to be more or less her usual self; Shalimar doubted very much that the former mercenary would allow herself to project anything less. Jesse, on the other hand, looked like something the cat dragged in; battered, wrung out like a dishcloth, and sporting an assortment of cuts and bruises, along with what appeared to be first degree burns on his face and hands, but he nodded in reply. She raised an eyebrow at that, letting him know that she wasn't buying it, but at the same time she understood his message. She returned her attention to the big elemental.

"Well, I'm dying for a hot shower, but other than that…" she replied lightly.

That did bring an amused curve to his lips. None of them were exactly ready to run a marathon, but that wasn't the point. What she was telling him was that no one had been additionally injured during the chase; they were banged up, but whole. Her answer, and the way she gave it, was designed to be reassuring so as to keep him from worrying about them.

This was why they fit so well together, he reflected. Beyond the words themselves, _how_ they answered in tense situations was just as important. Each of them knew what the other was really asking, just as they knew how to phrase the answer to give the other what they needed to hear. It was a purer form of communication; more than just reading between the lines; a sort of intuitive infusion of knowledge in which words formed only a part. It was something he only recently recognized had always existed between them in some degree but had been growing stronger over the last year. He had never experienced this with anyone else, but then his little tigress was the exception to a lot of rules. It was just one of many things he loved about her. He sighed, savoring the feeling with its intimate little glow for a brace of seconds before bringing his mind back to the moment.

"The chopper?"

"Lexa … discouraged it. We're clear for now, but we can't stay here."

"Where are we?"

"Clayton Boulevard, a couple of miles west of Modesto. We're off the road in a stand of trees."

He gave that some thought, getting his bearings, then spoke slowly, breathing between phrases. "Okay. Work your way to the I-80, going north. Then take Highway K west. Let me know when you cross Route 100."

Jesse was baffled. "Route 100? That's a good 60 miles from here. You set up a safe house way the hell out there?"

Part of the idea behind the preparations they had managed to get in place, from the duplicate server and clean computers he stashed to the caches of food, money and other essential supplies they established, was to have them closer in around the city, where they could access them more easily in case of an emergency. Setting up a safe house way out in the boondocks seemed counter to that purpose. It had the virtue of being unexpected, but that was about all he could say for it. There was no way Brennan could have had time to equip it with much in the way of electronics or amenities. When could he have done it, and why hadn't he mentioned it before? Still, something about the location tickled a vague familiarity in the back of his mind.

"Something like that."

"That will take too long," Shalimar objected. Her worry came back full force. With the immediate danger past she assumed that the next objective involved getting both men needed medical attention, at the very least some basic first aid. It hadn't occurred to her that he was contemplating this kind of a delay, and she wasn't about to sit still for it. Brennan acknowledged her concern with the lift of his brow, as much of a shrug as he felt like making.

"I'll be all right until we get there," he assured her tiredly. He tried to divert her by teasing her again. "Unless you plan on some more kamikazi driving."

She didn't respond with a crack of her own. This was no time for playful banter. Even if he wasn't still bleeding – and she wasn't convinced of that - he was still in a lot of pain. He was also chilled and exhausted. In addition, when she checked his shoulder her hyper-acute sense of smell caught something dismaying. Not only were they all filthy with the dust and debris that came with escaping from the collapsing buildings – certainly not the best thing for an open wound - when the Dominion operative's bullet ripped through his shoulder it carried fibers from his clothing with it into the flesh. His body was beginning to react to the dirt and foreign matter. Infection was setting in.

"No," she said decisively, abandoning all pretense, "We need to get some fluids in you, and some meds; clean that wound and get a pressure bandage on it."

"Later. First we have to get to a safe place."

"You're in no position to argue," she informed him in a tone that brooked no argument, and started to step down.

"Shal."

The naked steel in that one quiet word brought her up short. She looked back to see eyes as sharp and intense as a raptor boring into hers.

"That's exactly what they'll expect us to do," he said. Each word was clipped and freighted with command, and with his eyes locked on hers, the titanium strength of his will was palpable in the close confines of the front seat. "We're outnumbered, outgunned, and way too vulnerable like this. We need to get out of the city before they can regroup and come after us again – and before the cops spot us."

She opened her mouth to argue further. He raised his good hand, let his fingers twine around a silken lock of gold, and his tone softened. "I promise, everything's covered – including your hot shower. Trust me."

That took the wind completely out of her sails, the one thing he could say that would trump everything else. Trust me. The hell of it was that he had every right to ask this of her, and every right to expect her to honor that request. After all they had been through together, all the times when he went against his better judgment and backed her because she asked him to, she had no choice now but to reciprocate, no matter how worried about him she was, or how much she wanted to throttle him for being so obstinate.

That didn't mean she had to like it. With a muffled curse about pig-headed men on testosterone highs, she slammed the door and got back behind the wheel.

He was doing it again, slipping into the take-charge leadership role he instinctively assumed when the chips were down. His focus was zeroed like a laser on getting the team to safety, and in this he was as unyielding as the Rock of Gibraltar. He would not allow anything to stand in the way, even his own physical needs. The only thing she could do now was concentrate on getting them where he insisted they go as quickly as possible, and hope he didn't develop blood poisoning or something in the interim.

She gripped the wheel tightly, surrendering to the inevitable. No one knew better than she that Brennan had a protective streak a mile wide ingrained in his DNA; it was something they frequently butted heads over. Earlier he had shielded her at Sanctuary by putting himself between her and the attacking Dominion agents; that was how he got shot. This time he was protecting the whole team. He would risk his life in a heartbeat for anyone he cared about or considered to be under his protection. It was part of who he was. If she loved him she was just going to have to find a way to come to terms with it, just as he accepted those parts of her feral nature that disturbed him. She glanced down at her hands as she put the SUV in gear. The way things were going, it looked like she had the easier part of that deal.

A tremor shook her, despite the fact that she had cranked the heat to its fullest to compensate for the increasingly frosty night air rushing through the shattered back windows. As if there wasn't already enough going on, something had been happening to her in the last couple of days, starting with when she was kidnapped in San Francisco. At first she thought the tingling in her hands was her imagination; and then after what happened when she interrogated her captor, she gave up on imagination and just blocked it out. But now the incontrovertible evidence was right in front of her in the cuts now marring the steering wheel's sleek leather covering right under her fingertips. She could feel it happening even now….

No. She couldn't, _wouldn't_ , think about it now. There were more important things to think about, such as wondering where they were going, and why Brennan was so sure that they would be safe there. She started to ask him, throwing him a quick sideways glance. He was still and quiet, his head laid back on the head rest, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and even. At first she thought he had lost consciousness, and her heart constricted anxiously. When she looked more closely she realized from his upright posture that he was just resting, conserving his strength as best he could. The questions died on her tongue. For now, letting him rest was more important.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

They solved the gasoline situation within a few minutes of Shalimar mentioning it by the simple ploy of siphoning fuel from a disabled car they found on the side of the road. They didn't get all that much, but it was probably enough to get them where they were going – wherever that was. Brennan was keeping very tight-lipped about that. All he would say was that they were going to drop in on some old friends, and with that they had to be content.

To fill the time, each brought the other team members up to date on their separate actions. Lexa started off, telling them about the Dominion's ultimatum regarding Jesse which precipitated the events of the evening, and the core-killer virus she created and uploaded which destroyed their main system. Shalimar picked it up from there, and Jesse was visibly shaken when she broke the news about the destruction of not only the Double Helix, but of Sanctuary as well. During their planning sessions he had accepted that their home might become untenable on a short-term basis, but it never occurred to him that they might not be able to return once the Dominion was defeated. He was having a tough time wrapping his head around the idea that it could be as bad as all that until Brennen explained about the contamination as well as the damage; how, with Shalimar down and Dominion goons in power-proof suits closing in on her, he had been forced to breach Sanctuary's power core to stop them. The resulting explosion had been truly spectacular and took out a sizeable number of the invaders, but no one took much comfort in that.

The conversation progressed to the battle at the Dominion headquarters complex, and the sudden intrusion of the helicopter gunships. They all agreed that Damien Acosta was the likely source of that attack. Given the raids he had been staging on Dominion interests, and coming so soon after his attempt to kidnap Shalimar in San Francisco*, it was unlikely that it could be anyone else. There was no doubt that those were his minions in the black SUVs; they may have been Dominion vehicles, but with the facility awash with flames, the chances they could have fended off Acosta's attack and then that quickly come after them were slim. Besides, if the Dominion had any powered operatives on site, they would have employed them against Mutant X. No, these had to be some of Acosta's mutant-DNA graftees. He must have seized the opportunity to finish what Lexa and the others started. With their defenses seriously compromised, the Dominion forces that remained would have been quickly overwhelmed.

But why did Acosta want them dead? He must have known from his spy on the Dominion Council that Jesse had passed his 'expiry date'; the timing of his attack was too perfect to be anything like coincidence. Surely Jesse at least, with his stabilized DNA, was more valuable alive than dead. Since it was likely that Acosta had been able to take Adam and the Creator from the Dominion, the most logical scenario would be to capture Mutant X intact, yet the forces that chased them, particularly the guys in the

 _*See "Issues", also on this site_

helicopter, had been out for blood. They puzzled over that for a while, but eventually the talk dwindled when they couldn't come up with a definitive answer.

They drove through the night, darkness wrapping around them like a velvet cloak. They were on Highway K now, a lonely two-lane blacktop that connected the rural areas in the west to the city, where the streetlights were few or even nonexistent. Luck was with them; they met only a couple of cars driving in the opposite direction, and neither of them were police who might become suspicious of a vehicle sporting the kind of damage the Tahoe bore. That, at least, was one less thing to worry about.

Inside the Tahoe, all was equally quiet. Glancing in the mirror, Shalimar could see Lexa huddling with Jesse. It looked like they were dozing; her head was on his shoulder, and his arm was around her, her leather jacket inadequately draped over them as they sought to share body heat. Shal had rolled up the passenger windows to retain what warmth she could, but even with the heater cranked to full blast the shattered back windows and the holes in the windshield dissipated the effect. They had to be chilly, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. The front seats were heated, so she and Brennan were reasonably warm, but the rear ones didn't include that option.

Thinking of Brennan, Shal cast him yet another covert glance from the corner of her eye, something she had been doing almost continuously ever since they siphoned the gas from the derelict car. To a casual observer he seemed the same, resting quietly with his head on the headrest, maybe even drifting into some semblance of sleep, but Shalimar knew better. She picked up several telltale signs in his body language and scent; tiny shiftings in his arm, shoulder and body, an occasional swallow, the whiff of sweat, and small differences in the way he was breathing. He was getting worse; feverish, weak and uncomfortable, and they were still a good twenty minutes or so from this haven of his. It galled her that she was so useless, that she couldn't offer him so much as a pair of aspirin. All she could do was to inch her speed up a fraction more, pushing the margin between the posted speed limit and what would get her stopped by any cops who happened to be staking out this stretch of road for drunks or speeders. She wondered who these "old friends" he mentioned were, and why he was so certain they could provide the aid they required. Shal's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Whoever they were, they'd better be ready to come across with some top-notch medical care for both of her men, or there would be hell to pay.

Brennan kept his eyes closed, using the excuse of resting to keep the others from pressing him on where they were going. He'd had this backup plan in mind for a while now against the possibility that a Dominion attack would force them to evacuate Sanctuary. A safe house was fine for ordinary purposes, but just not defensible against the numbers the Dominion would likely send after them, particularly if any of the team got injured in the battle. What he needed was a place that had the resources they required and could also repel that kind of assault. He could think of only one place that could fit that bill, a veritable fortress bristling with high-tech weaponry and the personnel to operate it. The man who owned it was very powerful in his own right, mutant-powerful, who made a formidable adversary even without his private army. Though the Dominion's power-proof suits were a wrinkle he hadn't counted on, Brennan felt certain that even that arrogant bunch would think twice about trying to attack such a place.

What he hadn't expected was to have Damien Acosta horn in at the exact same time. That was why he was being so reticent about their location. He didn't know the scope of the telepath's abilities or his range, and he didn't want Acosta to pluck their destination from someone's mind and spring a nasty ambush. The pain he was in should be sufficient to shield his own mind from any mental prying; at least, that was what he was counting on. Of course, by now they were probably far enough away to be safe from that sort of thing, but still he kept quiet. Every once in a while his private paranoia regarding sociopathic telepaths reared its ugly head, and this was one of those times. It would take a little while before he could shove it back into its small, dark box in the shadowy corner of his mind where the other ghosts of his past lived.

So now they were being hunted by both the Dominion and Damien Acosta. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. Of the two, Brennan considered Acosta to be the more dangerous. His cadre of manufactured mutants was swelling by the day, and power-proof suits or not, in the long run the Dominion forces would be no match for them head-to-head. That part was fine with Brennan. Let the two of them beat each other's brains out while Mutant X regrouped on the sidelines. Later, when things were a little more settled and his brain didn't feel like a bowl of mush, he could start thinking about dealing with the winner.

Shalimar's quiet voice intruded from his left.

"Bren? We're coming up on Route 100."

Brennan breathed, trying to focus his thoughts on the now, and forced open eyelids that seemed to weigh five pounds each.

"Good. We're almost there. Go another three miles, slow down, and look for an unmarked turn to the right. Without a GPS, it's easy to miss." He shifted carefully, straightening a bit, and hooked a long finger inside his collar as he scanned the midnight countryside, scanning his side of the road for the turnoff.

Lexa's head rose up from her cozy niche against Jesse's shoulder to look around, but all she saw was a lot of nothing. She couldn't imagine what Brennan could have managed to set up out here in the middle of nowhere, or who these 'old friends' of his were. Probably someone he met in some jail or other, she thought sourly. It hadn't better be some broken-down abandoned farmhouse. She wanted to wallow in a bath just short of scalding, and then crash in a comfortable bed for about ten hours. Jesse took the opportunity to stretch gingerly, grimacing as his stiff muscles reacted painfully to this forced action.

The sudden roar of powerful engines made them jump. Three black Hummers appeared out of nowhere, taking even Shalimar by surprise. With swift, uncanny precision they positioned themselves in an enclosing formation, one ahead, the second flanking them on the left, and the third behind, the thick woods to the right completing the cage. The anxiety level in the Tahoe leaped through the roof at the sight of the heavily-armed men in tactical gear surrounding them. Shalimar gauged the relative weight of their SUV and the two vehicles in her immediate sight line, trying to decide if she could ram her way out of the box. Thinking along the same lines, Lexa pulled herself up and took aim at the side vehicle, hoping to at least make them veer enough to give them room to get out. Beside her, Jesse gathered his waning strength and massed out the entire Tahoe.

"Easy," Brennan's calm voice cut through the thick tension. "Everyone stand down. These are the good guys."

Shalimar had to force her fingers to loosen their death grip on the wheel. She took a deep breath, then one more as she fought to clamp down on her instinctive fight-or-flight response.

"How do you know?"

"I called them," he answered, "Sort of. Trust me. Old friends, remember?"

Old friends with a military-style tactical response team? Jesse pondered that for a second or two, then a light bulb suddenly went off in his head as the answer came to him. A strong wave of relief cancelled out his adrenaline rush. He released the Tahoe from the massing effect and sagged back against the seat.

"So that's it," he said hoarsely. He knew who these 'old friends' were now, and for the first time tonight felt like he could relax. "I didn't make the connection before because the only time I saw this place was in daylight and from the air."

Lexa's stare was lost in the darkness. "What place? Where are we?"

"He's brought us to see Matt and Jaryl."

"Well I'll be damned." Shalimar cast an admiring look at the man beside her. It had been just over a year since they had teamed up with the formidable telepath/ telekinetic who called himself Matthew Star in a mission to rescue his pregnant wife, Jaryl, an extremely gifted empath, from Damien Acosta's clutches.* Brennan had been mortally injured during the battle, and only Jaryl's healing abilities had saved his life. Shal had nightmares for days about how very close they came to losing the big elemental. They had lost touch with the couple after that, what with finding out that their mentor, Adam Kane, was still alive, and discovering the deep corruption festering at the Dominion's core. Matt had said then that he owed the mutant team for their help in rescuing Jaryl. Evidently Brennan was about to call in the marker.

"No, wait, this is a bad idea," Lexa objected.

Jesse looked at her as if she had rocks in her head.

"What's bad about having that kind of muscle on our side?"

"The Dominion knows about this place. I…" she hung her head in a rare show of embarrassment, "I reported the location last year when we dropped the two of them off. Well, how was I supposed to know?!" she demanded defensively, feeling Jesse's stare, "We still thought they were the good guys back then, and someone with Star's organization and firepower could conceivably be a threat. It would be standard procedure for the Dominion to set up a surveillance post. They'll know we came here."

Damn. That was a wrinkle Brennan hadn't considered in his planning. He didn't think the Dominion was capable of taking action against them, at least in the short term, after the heavy blow they took tonight, but Damien Acosta might be another story. Since the Dominion knew about the Stars' estate, then likely so did Acosta, from his mole on the Dominion Council. Brennan could be bringing both enemies down on their heads. For a second he thought about calling it off, going somewhere else, but then decided against it. This was still the safest place for the team to take refuge, and besides, if the

 _*See "Threads", also on this site._

display of military strength and precision surrounding them was any indicator, Matt's people were well aware of the Dominion's scrutiny, and fully capable of handling any potential threat from that direction.

The lead vehicle slowed and put on its turning signal. Shalimar followed it to the right onto a nondescript bit of blacktop as the side Hummer pulled off, stationing itself to watch the convoy's back. Ahead a guard in a faintly-lit, discreetly fortified gatehouse waited until what seemed like the last possible second before hitting a switch. The tall gates parted with unusual speed, and only wide enough to let them pass through comfortably before closing again as quickly as they opened.

They turned off the winding drive onto a side spur. Ahead the feral could perceive the outline of a large garage, but there was no light, no opening visible. The Hummer in front of her didn't slacken speed; it continued on toward what looked like a solid wall of black. Shalimar got ready to slam on her brakes or veer sharply when the lead vehicle did the same, but it never wavered. It plowed straight ahead and vanished into the wall as if swallowed up.

Gulping, Shalimar kept going, fighting not to reflexively shut her eyes and bracing herself instinctively for impact. There was none. They cut through the blackness like a hot knife through butter, and a second later emerged into a large utility garage. Banks of light panels in the ceilings stretched nearly from wall to wall, bathing the interior with their radiance. Waiting for them was a second squad of troops in black tactical gear. Near the center stood a red and white box-like truck resembling an ambulance, with four people in white standing outside. As Shalimar pulled up, the two remaining Hummers wheeled around, taking up positions between them and the entrance. The men all spilled out, and sharp commands crackled through the air as they blended with the ground squad, deploying in a classic defensive screen, several of them disappearing into the midnight curtain they had just passed through. Those remaining stood guard facing away from the mutant team, their guns at the ready.

Shalimar pushed the gearshift to 'park', slid out of the Tahoe and hurried around the front to open Brennan's door. He was fumbling left-handed for the seat belt latch. She batted his hand away, released it for him and stowed it out of the way. As he started to shift his legs around, a glint of something shiny caught her attention. Dangling from a chain around his neck, the bright gold in sharp contrast to his dark shirt, was a sword about two inches long, handsomely crafted in exquisite detail. A faceted blood-red stone in the shape of a diamond was set into the grip, so highly polished it seemed to glow from within. Tiny sigils, much like the ones on their comlink rings, were etched down the blade.

He must have had it tucked under his shirt, else she would have noticed it earlier. Shal eyed it curiously. Bren wasn't much into jewelry, wearing it only once in a while, and when he did it was usually something ascetic and simple, most often of an Asian bent. This piece, elegant and obviously expensive, was a departure from his usual style. It was most likely a gift, probably from some ex-lover. For some reason that notion didn't sit at all well.

"Where did you get that?"

"From Matt. I'll tell you about it later."

The commander of the tactical squad approached then, his weapon turned down.

"Brennan Mulwray," he said in pleasantly accented English, all but snapping to attention, "I am Major Kell, Head of Security. We received your signal. It is an honor to…." He broke off when Shalimar moved aside and he got a good look at the man he was addressing. He rapped out a sharp order in another language to the waiting medics. They bolted forward, a padded gurney in tow.

Brennan had been occupied with easing himself out of the vehicle as painlessly as possible and keeping his balance once he gained his feet against the sudden rush of weakness that threatened to buckle his knees. It wasn't until he had edged clear and Shal had pushed the door closed that he realized who was about to swarm him. Shalimar saw the dismay on his face and knew that he was about to spout some stupid objection, like he could walk to the vehicle under his own steam or something equally nonsensical. She glared at him forbiddingly.

"Don't even start," she warned.

She was wearing her "or else" expression. Brennan read it as clearly as if it was plastered on a billboard. Reflexively he opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a snap. Arguing just wasn't worth the effort. She pressed her hands to his arms guiding him around and backward until the backs of his thighs bumped into the gurney. He sat down heavily. Her aim accomplished, Shalimar's demeanor softened. She stood close, and her fingertips moved to lightly brush his face.

"It's all right," she said gently, "You got us here. We're safe. You can let go now."

Their eyes met and held for a lingering moment of silent understanding. Then Brennan expelled a long breath, his posture visibly sagging as he allowed his resistance to drain. He lay back carefully against the raised top of the gurney, and she helped lift his legs up. One of the techs covered him with a blanket and started examining him with a hand-held medical scanner.

"Better make it two," Lexa called, coming around the back of the Tahoe. She was supporting Jesse, who was weaving like a drunkard. The strain of using his powers so extensively, on top of being tortured earlier, had taken its toll. One of the EMTs stepped up and took his other side as his partner hustled back to the truck for another stretcher. The remaining tech brought blankets to wrap around the women.

The major turned to Shalimar and Lexa as they watched the efficient staff load Jesse onto a second gurney. He gestured toward a polished black limousine with tinted windows standing at the ready.

"We have done a thorough scan of the perimeter," he said as they started walking toward it, "Our people are monitoring all ground and air traffic, as well as communications in the vicinity. There is no sign of pursuit or other activity concerning you. You are safe here."

"For tonight," Lexa's shoulders slumped. Tomorrow might be a different story. The Dominion would be out for their blood now. On top of that, although they lost Acosta's people long before they showed up here, he would soon learn their location. That reminded her of something.

"Do you know that the Dominion has set up a surveillance post?" she asked the major.

"We are aware," he said. A brief smile touched his lips and vanished. "They must be a very…frustrated..?" His glance was a question, and Lexa nodded acknowledgement of the word. "…frustrated lot. They learn so little through our jamming protocols." He opened the door of the limo, then climbed in behind them. The women settled into the luxurious interior, huddling into their blankets.

They followed the ambulance through another black barrier on the far side of the garage and reconnected with the main driveway. The contrast was astounding. Looking back, Lexa couldn't see so much as a glimmer of light emitting from the opening they just drove through. How could something so ephemeral block light so completely? Major Kell noted her expression.

"It's called a Nightweb," he said, "It is one of our anti-sensory measures. No light, sound, heat or electronic signature escapes from its enclosure."

"It's impressive," Lexa said, and meant it. No wonder the sentries at the surveillance post were frustrated. To her knowledge the Dominion had nothing like this.

"Do all of your vehicles have stealth capabilities?" Shalimar asked. Startled, Lexa swung back around, wondering what she was talking about. She saw that the feral was staring straight ahead, but there didn't appear to be anything there. Then she realized that the ambulance, which should have been right in front of them, was missing, to her at least. Obviously Shalimar could see it just fine. In retrospect, that explained how the three Hummers appeared so abruptly.

The major nodded. "Yes. From the look of your vehicle, it is obvious you have been under attack. We are taking no chances."

So the Dominion's surveillance post couldn't see them; they might not even know that the mutant team was there. That should buy them a little time. These guys were definitely on the ball. Lexa wouldn't be surprised if their escorts had done something to cloak them even before they turned off the highway. Her respect for Matthew Star and his organization rose a notch. Jesse was at least partly right. It was good to have this kind of muscle on their side, but at the same time she was a little uneasy about the whole thing. Lexa didn't trust readily; they knew too little about Matt and his organization for her to be comfortable taking all this at face value. As the Dominion had just demonstrated, allies could one day become enemies, and from the look of things this man could prove to be just as dangerous. Her teammates seemed to trust him, but then again they were a trusting lot. That kind of sentiment could get them killed. Lexa resolved to do a little snooping at the first opportunity.

They drove for what seemed to be an inordinate distance, maybe half a mile, before they rounded a curve and caught sight of a…'house' was just too insignificant a word; even 'mansion' was inadequate. 'Palace' was what came to mind. Shalimar had only gotten a glimpse when she was here before, and so could be forgiven for not remembering the size of the place. It loomed before her now, and she was a little surprised to see lights on at various places throughout the structure. Given their precautions at their first stop, she would have expected to see blackout conditions here as well. She said as much to their host.

"It wasn't necessary," he said, and left it at that. The two mutants exchanged glances but said nothing further, each pondering the implications of that statement.

Up ahead they could see that the ambulance had rematerialized inside a covered and brightly-lit receiving area built into the west side of the first floor. Another squad of soldiers was fanned out around the perimeter. A full team of medics were already assembled, and converged as the EMTs offloaded their patients, who were then quickly whisked inside.

The limo glided to a smooth-as-silk stop beside the ambulance. Two of the soldiers moved swiftly to open the car doors and assist the women in climbing out. A man in a dark suit cut in a European style was waiting for them. He was flanked by two orderlies each propelling what looked like an overstuffed La-Z-Boy recliner, only raised a few inches off the floor.

Major Kell turned to them.

"I must leave you now to Carl's very capable hands," he said, "Do not be concerned about your vehicle; it will be taken care of." There was a hint of a smile, from which the women discerned that he noticed the lack of a key in the ignition, giving him a pretty good idea of how they acquired the vehicle. What he was saying was that it would be discreetly disposed of. "Tomorrow, after you have rested, I will brief you on any further developments."

"Thank you, Major," Shalimar said.

"Ladies, it was my very great pleasure." The security officer executed a sharp, precise military bow and took his leave.

The suited man came forward with a welcoming smile and spread hands.

"Ms. Fox, Ms. Pierce, it is an honor to have you with us," he said, "I am Carl, the majordomo here. If there is anything at all we can do to serve you, please don't hesitate to ask." He gestured to the waiting chairs, inviting them to sit.

"No, really, we're fine," Shalimar said, trying not to let her dismay show. Yeah, she was a little sore in spots from the fall she took at Sanctuary, but she sure didn't need a wheelchair, even a tricked-out, very comfortable-looking one. She was perfectly capable of walking wherever she needed to go. Lexa stepped around her and dropped into one of the chairs with tired grace.

"Speak for yourself," she said, pulling the blanket off her shoulders and arranging it across her lap. "I'm beat. I could stand some quality time in a Jacuzzi. I wouldn't turn down a midnight snack, either." She held one hand up, studying it. "And would you just look at the state of my nails?"

Carl smiled. "Your rooms are being prepared as we speak. I can have a manicurist at your disposal when they are ready – or would you prefer to sleep first?"

"After breakfast would be fine," Lexa said magnanimously. She burrowed her rear into the butter-soft chocolate leather. "Hmm – heated seats. Nice touch."

Shalimar gaped at her. What kind of game was Lexa playing? There was no doubt in her mind that this was a ploy; Lexa would never admit to being tired or weak to a stranger, and the thing with the nails was a bit over the top for her. Well, the only way to find out was to go along. Shalimar sank slowly into the other chair. Carl didn't appear to notice her hesitancy. He positioned himself between the two as the orderlies moved behind them. Discreet handles allowed them to propel the chairs forward at a comfortable walking pace.

"Where are we going, by the way?" Lex wanted to know.

"To our Medical Station," Carl replied. "Max has read the biosensors in your chairs and informs me that, although neither of you have sustained any serious injury, you, Ms. Fox, have some bruises which should be seen to."

"Seriously, all I need is a hot bath, and maybe some ibuprofen," Shalimar said, a little uncomfortable with his scrutiny. She wasn't used to having this much fuss made over a few bruises, but at the same time she didn't want to insult the man's hospitality. Carl took it in stride.

"Would you care for a massage? I have our masseuse standing by."

"Um…no, thanks." Shalimar shifted uneasily in her seat.

"As you wish. If you change your mind in the morning, Jen will be at your disposal." He looked away briefly. "Max, inform housekeeping to run baths for Ms. Fox and Ms. Pierce as soon as they have finished the other preparations."

"Who is this 'Max' you're talking to?" Lexa asked.

"Max is the house computer," Carl answered. She could see the earpiece in his ear now that she was looking for it. "He oversees communications and most of the functions here. If you find yourself needing anything at all, just speak out. Max is interactive and voice-responsive."

While he was speaking they arrived at a glassed-in room which bore a passing resemblance to the lab at Sanctuary. Inside the medical staffers were bustling about their two patients, performing their duties with professional efficiency. Shalimar twisted her head to look up at her host.

"I thought we were going to nix this."

"I understood your refusal of medical treatment," Carl said evenly, "That is not why I brought you here. Your arrival this evening was unexpected. As long as you have to wait while your suite is being prepared, I presumed you would prefer to do so close to your men."

He made a good point, and Shal appreciated his thoughtfulness. "Yes, we would," she said, then gave him a puzzled look. "You said you weren't expecting us. I thought Brennan called you."

Carl tilted his head, considering. "Not precisely. As I understand it, Security picked up his signal when he came into range and began monitoring it. Once it was apparent that you were coming here and in need of assistance, I was alerted, and …I believe the phrase is, 'got the ball rolling'."

He gestured to the orderlies. Bypassing a well-appointed sitting area, he had them parked in an alcove just outside where they could get a good view of the care their teammates were receiving.

Jesse and Brennan were ensconced side by side in biometric chairs much like the one they had in the lab at home. Jesse's chair was in a nearly-reclining position. A blanket covered him from his feet to his bare shoulders, and a pillow cushioned his head. He had patches on his eyes, and his scalded hands were wrapped in sterile cloths. A nurse sat beside him, gently tending to the abrasions on his face. Another held a straw to his lips, allowing him to sip from a cup of some type of liquid. Except for an occasional wince at the sting of the antiseptic, he looked comfortable.

Brennan was sitting more upright, his head cradled by a form-fitting, padded rest. His jacket and shirt had been cut off. He too was blanketed, but his was folded back to expose only his wounded shoulder. A doctor sat on a high stool working on it while another nurse set up an IV line. The elemental mutant must have sensed the eyes upon him, because when the nurse moved aside he turned his head and locked eyes with the feral. He managed a thumbs-up, and she gave him an encouraging smile.

The rumble of wheels and the clatter of porcelain dragged Shalimar's attention away. A small convoy of utility carts of different sizes and types was coming at them, propelled by a half-dozen people in wait staff uniforms. As the two women stared in stunned silence they began unloading. First came folding tables that were adjusted to a proper lap height, then set in front of the chairs, with one more placed between them. Next pristine white tablecloths were whisked on top of them, followed by plates, cutlery, napkins, cups and water goblets. After that came food, beginning with a hot, rich, creamy soup with crusty bread that still steamed when pulled apart. Set between them came multi-tiered dishes, each layer laden with different types of tempting morsels, all set out to be within reach of the two women; bite-sized meats, several different hors d'oeuvres, one tower of sliced fruits, and an impressive dessert tray. It was like the 'Be Our Guest' scene from "Beauty and the Beast". As a final touch they produced a number of candles on stands of varying heights, which they arranged all about so that the whole spread was bathed in gentle candlelight.

"Your 'midnight snack', Ms. Pierce," Carl said, pleased with the effect that the waiters had taken upon themselves to supply, "I didn't think you would want anything heavy at this time of night, although if I am mistaken, please don't hesitate to ask. The head chef and the entire kitchen staff is standing by."

Lexa's eyes widened at the feast spread before them at such short notice, surely enough to feed at least a half dozen people.

"Wow," she said, "You guys sure don't stint, do you?"

Carl smiled. "My instructions were to see to your every comfort."

"Whose instructions, Matt's?" Shalimar asked.

"Just so."

"Is he here?"

"No, but he was immediately informed of the situation, and we are providing him with regular updates."

Lexa gave some thought to questioning the man further, but decided from his carefully worded answers that she probably wouldn't get very far. Besides, the wondrous aromas arising from the various dishes were making her mouth water and her stomach rumble. Generating lasers took energy, and she had used a lot tonight. Ever the pragmatist, she dug in. Coming to the same conclusion, Shalimar followed suit.

Before long the two women were stuffed to the gills and starting to get drowsy. The men were still being worked on when they received word that their rooms were ready, so they elected to go there and the baths that awaited them. Carl escorted them to their suite and halted in front of a handsome double set of doors. An ornate seal that neither recognized was beautifully embossed in the dark wood.

"Mr. Mulwray and Mr. Kilmartin will be brought here as soon as they are ready," he said, "Max – the doors, please."

They swung open on well-oiled hinges.

The term 'suite' was a massive understatement. From the sunken living room complete with fireplace to the full service kitchen in the back, to the dining area with its table for six, the place was huge. Past the kitchen was a set of sliding glass doors opening out onto a patio deck. To one side was a massive tech station that looked like Tony Stark's playground, with smaller kiosks for individual work. Another side held a polished bar. All of it was done in the class and style of a five-star hotel. Four people in livery, two men and two women, stood waiting for them.

Carl handed them out of their chairs, and with a gesture indicated a long hallway on the far side of the main room.

"This corridor leads to the sleeping quarters," he said. "Each one contains a bedroom, dressing room, sitting room and full bath." He skirted the rail partially surrounding the living room, leading them there as the uniformed staff fell in behind. "You ladies are on the right, the gentlemen will be on the left."

They came to the first pair of doors. "Ms. Pierce, this one is yours. Rosa will show you around." The first of the staff, an athletic-looking brunette, stepped forward, smiling, and opened the door, gesturing to Lexa to proceed her. Either the lights had been left on, or they were triggered by the opening of the door. Lexa glanced at Shalimar, then went inside. The door closed behind them.

Carl continued down the hallway until he came to the second pair of doors. Shalimar noticed that the two male attendants took up posts at the doors to what would be Brennan's and Jesse's rooms. The remaining female attendant, a small, slim blonde, opened the door as her compatriot had.

"Ree will see to your needs," Carl said, identifying her, "I'm sure you must be tired, so I will bid you good night. Tomorrow, at your convenience, we will speak about your situation and how we may further assist you. Do not be anxious about Mr. Mulwray and Mr. Kilmartin; Max informs me that both have responded well to treatment. They are being fed now as you were, and should be here before too long."

He bowed and left her.

Shalimar's 'sleeping quarters' were on a par with everything else she had seen so far; that is to say, huge and elegantly furnished in shades of green with cream accents. Ree took her straight through into the bedroom, which was dominated by a large, round bed. Surmounting it was a forest green canopy, which gave the top of the bed a shadowed quality. The little blond flipped open a panel built into the headboard.

"This bed has a feature just for you," she said. She touched a button. The bed began to slowly rise, and as it did so sets of steps connected at the foot and either side of the headboard rose from inside the floor. When it was approximately four feet off the floor Ree touched another button, and the bed stopped there, solidly supported on a center pylon.

"It can go higher or lower, just as you wish," the maid explained, showing her the controls, "Or you can just have Max do it. The bed itself can be adjusted for firmness, and the head and feet can be raised. And then there's this. Max, please activate the holographic overlay."

"Acknowledged," a male voice said. There was a series of clicks…

Shalimar found herself standing in the middle of a forest. The walls disappeared. Tall trees outlined a clearing of sorts; flowering shrubs filled in some of the open spaces. The floor was a carpet of grass with tiny wildflowers of every hue mixed in. The handsome nightstands she had noticed on either side of the bed became tree stumps. In the center, the bed itself had become a darkened den, framed with rocks and veiled by a curtain of leafy vines, overlooking a small forest pond. The lights dimmed to one, which cast a gentle moonlight glow over everything. Cicadas began to chirp, and here and there small creatures crept out from cover; bunnies, chipmunks, squirrels, and even a groundhog. A raccoon climbed down one of the trees. An owl flew in on silent wings and perched on a thick branch. Fish splashed in the pond, and frogs croaked from their lily pads in the rushes. Even some deer stepped timidly from cover to drink at the pond. Shalimar was struck dumb by the sight.

"…designed it herself," Ree was saying. Shalimar gave herself a mental shake.

"What was that? Did you say that Jaryl designed this?"

Ree beamed. "Especially for you. She was sure that sooner or later you and your friends would visit. They're just holograms, of course. For instance, you can walk right through the water."

Shalimar swallowed hard. It was more than beautiful, it was breathtaking, stirring something deep in her soul, calling to her feral nature in a way that was both compelling and frightening. She could feel the response in her fingertips, the feeling sort of like warm wax flowing over her nails, then hardening. She didn't dare look at them, but took a deep, shuddering breath, concentrating, willing it to go away. Her fingers tingled again, this time a melting sensation. Cautiously she curled one hand into a fist. Relief filled her when it felt perfectly normal.

Ree was looking at her expectantly. Evidently she hadn't noticed a thing. Shalimar managed a smile.

"It's incredible," she said, and meant it. Any other time she would have embraced it, appreciating the empath's insight into her feral nature. Later she probably would, but right now, with the shock of what was happening, it set her nerves on edge. She opened her mouth to ask that the overlay program be cancelled, but was distracted when a single tone sounded.

"Yes, Max," Ree said in response.

"Mr. Mulwray and Mr. Kilmartin have arrived."

"Thank you, Max."

Now that she was listening for it, Shalimar could hear the voices outside, the sounds of doors opening and shuffling feet. If her ears didn't deceive her, Brennan was being settled into the rooms directly across the hall. She turned to Ree.

"You know, I appreciate the tour and everything, but I'm kind of tired. I think I just want to wash all this gunk off me and climb into bed."

"Of course," the maid replied sympathetically, "You will find everything you need in the bathroom; body wash, shampoo, conditioner, even a hair dryer and a curling iron. Would you like me to style your hair?"

"Um…not tonight. Maybe later."

"As you wish. There is a spa robe and slippers in the bathroom. In the closet and dresser you will find a selection of clothing, including different types of nightwear."

Shalimar looked around, trying to guess where the stated furniture might be.

"Max, please cancel the overlay."

"Acknowledged."

The room returned to its original state. Shal could see that the closet and dresser had been masquerading as a stand of pine trees. She crossed the room and found lingerie, jeans, tops, jackets and a heavier coat, some dresses, even a couple of evening gowns with shoes to match, and all of it in her size. She looked at her companion in astonishment.

"How did you do this?"

Ree smiled. "As I said, it was felt that sooner or later we would have you as our guests. Clothing selections for all of you were assembled months ago, and they are yours to keep. This entire wing was remodeled specifically for your team. No one else has ever stayed here."

"This is amazing. But it's way too much….."

Ree shook her head. "Not at all. We are honored to have you here. Seeing to your comfort is only a small part of the debt we owe you."

Shal browsed through the lingerie and selected a silk chemise of jewel-toned violet and the matching panties. "What debt? If you're talking about the time we helped rescue Jaryl…."

"You saved her. And the child. You can't know what that means to us."

"Jaryl herself more than made up for that when she healed Brennan," the feral said. She was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable with the little maid's hero worship, and, truth be told, the idea of having a maid to begin with. It was not something she had ever experienced. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to slide into that bath; I can't stand myself a minute longer."

She hoped the girl would take the hint and leave; she didn't want to have to dismiss her and perhaps hurt her feelings. As it happened, Ree was that perceptive, and not at all offended.

"Of course. You'll find that the temperature of the water has been maintained. If there is anything else you need or want, just speak to Max, and it will be taken care of." Giving her guest an understanding smile, she turned and glided from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Shalimar wasted no time in stripping out of her battle-stained clothes and seeking out the tub. It was an in-ground affair large enough for two, with steps leading down into it and built-in seating molded to mimic an underwater lounger. Not wanting to sit and soak in her dirt, she rinsed off first in the separate shower area, scrubbed her hair thoroughly, and pinned it up. Then, her hand gliding down the enameled rail, she walked gingerly down the steps into the frothy bubble bath.

With a sigh of pure pleasure she found a seat and sank down to her shoulders. The water was as hot as Ree had promised. The warmth was just what the doctor ordered for her tired muscles. She dropped her head back on a soft foam head rest and stretched out. As an experiment she wondered aloud if the tub had any hydrotherapy features, and was pleased when jets all around her activated, producing a wonderful full body massage.

They were all safe, Brennan's and Jesse's injuries had been treated, she had a full stomach, the accommodations were luxurious, and the bath was nothing short of heaven. They had even done something to the bubbles so that the scent was dialed way back to a level that her feral sense of smell found pleasant. Everyone was falling all over themselves to treat them like royalty. By all rights she should be able to relax, let her mind float while the tub worked its magic on her bruised body.

But try as she might, she just couldn't seem to do it. Her mind kept returning to the hologram display. Jaryl was an empath, able to read people on an intensely personal level. During their last encounter, Shalimar had carried her out of Naxcon, at a time when Jaryl's personal defenses were nonexistent. She would have had zero control over any insights gained while the two women were in physical contact. Seeing the design Jaryl had created for her sleeping quarters, those insights must have penetrated deeply. It was a profoundly disturbing thought. Especially now.

Her fingers flexed, curling and uncurling, feeling the nails prick her palms again and again. _Stop it,_ she ordered herself. This was getting her nowhere. She rose from the water, toweled off body and hair, and slipped on the silky lingerie. A few minutes with a brush and hair dryer had her damp tresses taken care of. She brushed her teeth and applied moisturizer to her face, all on autopilot. Her mind still troubled, she walked out of the bathroom.

The bed stood before her, still raised on its platform, still shrouded by the canopy. Even without the computer-generated illusions, it still looked like a den. An animal's den.

Was this what Jaryl saw in her? Was this what she was becoming?

Part of her wanted to activate the holograms, bound onto the bed, and burrow into the bedclothes like a cat in a nest of cotton. After all, her own bedroom at Sanctuary had been styled in a similar manner. Another part saw the depth of that want and shied away from it. All at once, she knew she couldn't sleep there tonight. Her nerves were too much on edge. There was a sofa in the sitting room. That would be sufficient.

She climbed the first two stairs, thinking to pull the comforter off the bed and take it with her, then stopped. There was another option. She could go to Brennan's room and sleep with him. Actually, now that she considered the matter, it might be a good idea to be on hand in case he needed anything in the night; water, perhaps, if he became feverish or needed a pain pill. Without pausing to question her motives too closely, she padded silently across the floor. Hesitating for only a moment while her keen hearing ascertained that there was no one else about, she slipped like a shadow from her room into the one directly across the hall.

Brennan was sound asleep, propped up on a pair of large pillows. Though the room was pitch black, she could discern that much. More pillows were tucked under his elbow in a manner that supported his arm and kept it level. It was in a sling, resting on top of a soft down comforter. She slid under the covers and moved across the enormous bed to where he lay.

Just seeing him, powerful even in repose; touching his smooth skin, was a balm to her soul, and she realized with a wave of self-loathing that she had been lying to herself. It wasn't for his sake that she came here, although that was part of it. The larger part was that she _needed_ Brennan tonight, needed the closeness and strength his presence afforded, even while asleep. With him she wasn't a feral, some half-wild creature stalking her prey in the night. She was simply a woman, as natural and human as any other, curling up for sleep with her man. Tomorrow she would face the reality of what was happening, but for now, being here with him, she could shut out the world and just _be_. She pulled his good arm around her and cuddled close, letting the warmth of his body and his familiar masculine scent lull her senses. Breathing a long sigh, she lowered her head to the solid muscle of his chest, and soon drifted off.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

 _The rocket exploded with a deafening roar, the shock wave bowling him over and over like a rag doll. His ears were ringing, and he felt like he had been pummeled with a baseball bat, but he couldn't think about that now. Shalimar had been much closer to the explosion; the concussion had blasted her off the upper level. He had to get to her. His heart in his throat, keeping low because of the bursts going off all around him, he scrabbled his way to the stairs, nearly falling down them in his haste._

 _She was lying on her back, flaming debris all around, a pool of blood beneath her head. Third degree burns blackened portions of her torso. More blood poured from a half dozen gaping wounds, and the stench of charred flesh filled his nostrils. Screaming her name, he kicked aside the blazing wreckage and threw himself down beside her, frantic to help her but not knowing where to begin. She looked at him with eyes filled with agony, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Trails of scarlet leaked from her nose and mouth. Her arm jerked spasmodically, a hand missing fingers clutched his arm in a death grip. She gave one final gasp….._

"Bren! Brennan, wake up!"

He bolted upright, his body rigid and drenched with sweat, his heart pounding and his chest heaving like he'd just run a three-minute mile. Shalimar released the arm she had been shaking and reached up to stroke his face, watching his open eyes stare unseeing at something in the darkness, murmuring soothingly to him. Gradually her soft voice and gentle caresses took effect; his eyes lost some of their horrified look as he came back to himself. His posture eased as he pulled her tight with his good arm, feeling her warm and solid against him. He sighed and closed his eyes, drinking in the rich scent that was so uniquely hers.

"Shal," he breathed.

"I'm here."

She wrapped herself around him, feeling the trembling of his body against hers, holding him, absorbing it as he fought to bring his breathing under control. Her lips left butterfly kisses on his cheek, his chin, his throat; her hands stroking, gentling him, offering succor and strength. Eventually his tremors subsided, the tension bleeding from his every pore. He lifted his head and reluctantly eased his grip on her. Her lips brushed his ever so tenderly.

"Bad dream?"

At any other time he might have chuckled at that. Trust Shalimar to put things into perspective with such a massive understatement. Right now, though, the awful apparition was still too fresh in his mind. He swallowed hard, trying to draw on his hard-learned core of discipline, to push the nightmare into the mental box where he kept such things locked away. After all, it was just a dream. It hadn't happened like that. Shalimar had only been stunned. The woman in his vision was nothing more than a figment of his imagination driven by the heart-stopping terror he felt when he saw her fall. The living, breathing woman in his arms was what was real. She pressed against him, trying to hold him even closer, her body warm and soft against his, her skin creamy and smooth with no hint of burns. His fingers slid over the rich violet silk of her chemise, trying to focus on the tactile sensations as a means of banishing the phantom.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shrugged, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably, betrayed by the slight muscle twitch in his jaw and the lingering horror she still saw in his eyes. She kissed him again, her lips soft and coaxing.

"You don't ever have to be afraid or embarrassed to show your emotions," she whispered, "Not with me. You know that, don't you?"

He had spoken those exact words to her a few days ago, just before she boarded a plane to San Francisco to reconnect with her estranged mother, and now she was giving them back to him. He met her eyes and lost himself in the bottomless pools of rich brown filled with warmth and support. A long, slow breath pushed through his lips, as if he was trying to expel the last of the emotional toxins which still had his hands shaking.

"I know it."

"Then tell me."

He looked away, trying to close his mind to the memory loop which refused to cease playing and not having much luck. She waited quietly, knowing that this was foreign to him, giving him time.

"Nothing much," he said finally, "Just Sanctuary, when that rocket blasted you off the upper level. Only this time…" He could not suppress a shudder. She squeezed him tightly, understanding what he didn't say.

"It's all right," she said softly, "I'm here. I'm safe. It was just a dream."

His arm tightened around her again and his head dipped to rest against hers, breathing in the scent of her hair, immersing himself in the feel of her in his embrace, the smooth silk of her chemise cool on his skin. Shalimar felt his pulse start to even out, but she knew that the nightmare was still there. What he needed was something to replace it, banish the violence and terror of his dream. He needed _her_. She needed him too, to keep her fears at bay if only for a little while. The call was as old as time, and she responded to it as she had for the first time only the day before, with the natural instincts of not only a woman, but as a feral with her chosen mate.

She started slowly, her kisses light and gently arousing, her hands warm and loving as they explored the hard planes of his chest. In some part of his mind Brennan understood what she was trying to do, but tenderness was the last thing he needed right now. Everything was too raw and visceral, too close to the surface. At the erotic swirl of her tongue at the hollow of his throat his senses exploded. Blood and primitive need pounded hot in his veins, churning the already volatile elixir of biochemicals in his bloodstream into pure nitroglycerine. Rational thought vanished in the face of the desire suddenly roaring through him, along with any semblance of control. He seized her with his good hand, then with an impatient growl he tore off his sling and flung it away. With both hands free her chemise went next; he practically ripped it off her body even as his lips hungrily sought her mouth. His need ignited hers, her passion bursting from within to match his, sweeping both of them into instant overdrive. The sex that followed was hot, wild and completely unrestrained, an all-out battle with no holds barred. When it was over they lay in each other's arms bathed in sweat, and so totally exhausted it was all they could do breathe, their lungs on fire and their hearts pounding like twin jackhammers.

Sometime latera sharp, persistent throbbing below his collarbone pulled Brennan much too soon from a sound sleep. Groggily he reached up with his good hand to rub some of the grit out of his eyes. Nestled half atop him, her tousled curls pillowed on his hard flesh, Shalimar protested the loss of his arm around her with an unconscious little feminine mutter. He put his arm back and was rewarded by her snuggling a fraction closer. Brenan figured he got the better part of the deal, as he hadn't seemed to be making much headway rubbing his eyes. They still felt like they were lined with sandpaper.

For a while he just lay there, drowsing in the glow of the early morning light, but the burning ache in his shoulder wouldn't let him go back to sleep. A bottle of pain medication stood on the nightstand, but moving to get it would dislodge Shalimar, and likely send a hot knife through his wound on top of it. Given the choice of the two, he elected to remain still. He could deal with the pain; it was an old companion of his, a strict tutor that had taught him patience, discipline and control. The lessons hadn't been easy, but over time he had mastered them. Now he used that technique to compartmentalize the fiery bite of his torn flesh, push it away as his Green Beret mentor had taught him during those grueling training sessions while he was in his teens. All he needed was something else to focus on.

Finding that something was a no-brainer. If the digital clock on the nightstand was correct, it had only been a couple of hours since the most incredibly mind-blowing sexual experience of his entire life. He'd been utterly, spectacularly, out of his head, all instinct and raw, blazing fire, with no finesse, no control whatsoever. That had never happened to him before, and although the result had been fan-damn-tastic to the nth degree, he was too cognizant of the damage someone of his size and strength could do to be comfortable with having lost it so completely. A wave of self-reproach washed over him. He'd never been that rough with a woman before, and the fact that once he set the tone Shalimar had responded with equal ferocity and enthusiasm was beside the point. He should have been more careful. The bruising he could see on the fine skin of her back and shoulder made him wince.

It was the nightmare that did it. Reliving the moment at Sanctuary when he thought Shalimar had been killed, embellished in horrendous detail by his own imagination, had exploded something in the core of his being. He came awake riding that tidal wave to find her beside him. Though she tried to soothe him, the potent cocktail of lust, adrenaline and horror combined in his bloodstream to shatter boundaries he had kept his entire adult life. Suddenly he had been desperate for her, even frantic, in measures he hadn't even realized he was capable of. A psychologist would probably call it a reaffirmation of life, but all he knew was that in that moment having her right then was as vital to him as his next heartbeat. And so he did, immediately and almost savagely, and in doing so something had changed in the very fabric of his being. It wasn't sex, it wasn't even making love. This had been something far beyond that. It had been _mating_ in the purest, most primal sense of the word, a fusion of souls as well as bodies, and he would never be the same.

He could still feel the echoes reverberating through his very atoms, setting in steel the bond that had been strengthening between them. She must have felt it too, or else she wouldn't have sensed his need for her and come to his aid. Or did she? Come to think of it, he never did see her come in. How long had she been here before shaking him from his nightmare? Had she come because of this bond, or was it simply something related to her ultra-keen feral senses that brought her to his room, a physical sensation rather than an emotional or spiritual one?

He hoped it was the former, that in her mind and heart she felt their connection as strongly as he did. It would seem …diminished… somehow if she wasn't on the same page, if she came only because she heard him moan or something. He wanted more than that, wanted the _knowing,_ the intuitive knowledge without logic or reason that came from two hearts and souls being so completely entwined that they were in effect one. He'd made that commitment to her in his own mind, and sealed it in the most intimate and elemental way he could. He was hers, heart, mind, body and spirit, for all time, and he would tell her that when she woke up. It scared the hell out of him to think that she might not feel the same way.

On the other hand, why should it matter if she heard him as opposed to sensing through some supernatural bond or whatever that he was having a nightmare? It wasn't as if either of them was telepathic like Matt, or empathic like Jaryl. Who wanted someone else inside their head 24/7? Besides, this thing between them was too new to expect anything like that kind of rapport. If she heard him or just sensed some kind of vibrations the way some animals did before an earthquake, what difference did it make?

Great. He'd just mentally put himself on a par with a bunch of vibrations, and her with a house cat. Talk about insulting.

He exhaled and closed his eyes. This kind of circular thinking was just his exhaustion talking. He could drive himself crazy trying to figure out the whys and wherefores. He should just forget it and go back to sleep. The bond between them was real, and that's all that was important. The metaphysics could take care of themselves.

The light brush of her fingers against his chest pulled him from his thoughts. Surprised, Brennan looked down to see that Shalimar had awakened. She raised her head, looking at him with a mixture of inquiry and concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He stared at her. He hadn't moved again; there was no particular reason she should have awakened just then. Maybe there was something to this metaphysical stuff after all. He was about to answer with an automatic 'fine', but something deep within stopped him. All of a sudden, he had to know. He drew a breath and took a leap of faith.

"You knew I needed you, didn't you? Before. That's why you came."

Shalimar heard the hesitancy in his voice. A surge of guilt stilled her fingers. She understood what he was asking. It would be nice if that had been the reason, but the truth was she had a much more selfish motive. The deeper, more intimate connection that had been growing between them and suddenly burst into her consciousness during her trip to San Francisco was something she had already accepted instinctively. The phenomenal sex just put the capstone on what she already knew; he was her true mate, in every sense of the word. That he could have been subliminally calling her was certainly possible, even probable, but it hadn't occurred to her because she thought he would be out like a light for several hours. She came to him because of her need, for the comfort she could derive just from being physically close to him, wrap herself in his strength. It tempted her to tell him what he wanted to hear, but while it was the truth, it wasn't the whole truth. This was a time for the whole truth.

"I…think we needed each other tonight."

There was something about the way she said it, a troubled note in her voice that drove everything else from his head. All his doubts vanished, instantly replaced by concern. He could feel tension tightening her lithe body.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

Though she didn't actually shift away from him physically, still he felt a subtle mental withdrawing that disturbed him. Something was definitely bothering her.

"It's nothing."

He wasn't buying that for an instant. "Is it the Dominion?"

She said nothing.

"Damien Acosta?"

Again she was silent.

"Is it losing Sanctuary? Adam?"

She didn't look up at him. Instead, her fingers traced a few scratches on his bicep, then moved to the white dressing on the front of his shoulder and the oddly-placed squiggles of colored tape around it.

"I got a little carried away," she said after a moment, "Did I hurt you? Is your shoulder all right?" She could smell blood, but whether it was from the bullet holes or newer, deeper perforations from her nails she couldn't tell. If it was the latter, the worst would be on his back. She was almost afraid to look, afraid that what she found would confirm her worst fears.

She was dodging. That by itself told Brennan how deeply troubled she was. Shalimar was usually pretty direct. Was she regretting the turn their relationship had taken? His stomach tightened at the thought. He couldn't bear it if she did. The rightness he felt in being with her, in finally taking that step, steeped right through to his bones. They were meant to be together; he _knew_ that with every fiber of his heart and soul. She must know it as well; after all, she was the one who came to him when they made love for the first time. So what was this skittishness about? To find out he would have to bide his time, let her lead where she would until he could draw her out.

"Sore as hell," he admitted, "The painkiller wore off a while back, and I did use it probably more than I should have." He grinned, thinking of the reason his shoulder had been overused, and his blood started to stir again. "But it was worth it." He trailed his fingers down her spine, and a heated gleam came to his eyes. "And you can get carried away with me anytime you want."

That brought a fleeting smile to her lips. She touched one of the strips of colored tape.

"What's the deal with this?"

She was still evading. Evidently she wasn't going to make this easy for him. Brennan drew a breath but kept his voice even.

"I don't know what you call it, but I've seen something similar on TV, on athletes," he answered, "The idea is to give specific support to muscle groups without sacrificing mobility. It feels weird, but support-wise it's doing the job for the most part. I can use my arm to some extent." He nuzzled her neck. "You may have noticed that."

She arched an eyebrow, but couldn't help grinning. Talk about an understatement. The unbridled strength of his muscular arms, of his entire body as they wrestled and fought each other when the passion between them exploded, had been heady and exciting. It boded well for when he was fully healed.

"I noticed."

Silence filled the space between them as that conversational distraction petered out. Shalimar cast her mind around, searching for a replacement. Her gaze landed on the gleaming object hanging from the chain around his neck.

"You were going to tell me about this sword," she said, tracing it lightly with one finger, "You said Matt gave it to you?"

"Last year when I came out here." Brennan had inadvertently eavesdropped on a conversation between Jesse and Lexa, and had been horrified to learn that Jaryl had been pregnant when she healed him of mortal injuries. He'd taken the Mustang and driven out there, desperate to make sure she was all right. Matt had assured him that, although she had been pretty much the worse for wear when he saw her, she would soon recover. Still, despite her condition, Matt was grateful to Brennan, because if the elemental hadn't offered his help, and by extension, the team's, he wouldn't have found Jaryl in time. He gave Brennan the pendant as a token of that gratitude.

"It's keyed to my DNA, just like my comlink ring," he continued, "It can't be duplicated or forged – something to do with the stone. It's a symbol to all of his people. Anytime, anywhere, if there is anything I need, he is honor-bound to provide it, no matter what the cost, for as long as either of us is alive."

"A life debt."

"Yeah. The sword itself is packed with microelectronics. It sends out a signal whenever I come into range; what kind of signal I'm not exactly sure of, but I think it includes some sensory data, to give them a heads-up on what's coming."

"It's beautiful. Why haven't I ever seen you wearing it?"

He sighed. "I guess because of Jaryl. I get that it was her decision, but I still can't get past the risk she took. She could have miscarried, or died. Because of me."

Shalimar canted her head to look up at him, a glint in her eye. "You're the only one who gets to take life-threatening risks, is that it?"

"Don't get started on your usual rant about men and testosterone," he retorted, "It isn't the same thing, and you know it."

She knew it, all right. Brennan was a big marshmallow when it came to kids. He never would have condoned Jaryl taking such a terrible risk if had been conscious at the time. That she had kept silent, allowing it even knowing what his wishes would be because she valued his life more than Jaryl and her unborn child, was her secret shame.

"Well, it's water under the bridge now," she said after a moment. She wasn't about to open up that can of worms. "The important thing is that we all lived through it, and now we have a powerful ally. What with both the Dominion and Acosta after us, we're going to need all the help we can get."

"I can't argue with that." He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. "Now, if you've run out of tangents to go off on, are you ready to tell me what's really upsetting you?"

She should have known he wouldn't let it go. A small sound escaped her as everything came crashing back. He could feel the tension stiffening her body all over again. His hand moved gently, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. There was an anxious look in her deep set eyes that made his heart constrict.

"Talk to me, Shal."

If only it was that simple. Shalimar couldn't deny what was happening to her, though for a while in his arms she could pretend that she wasn't terrified, that this was all just her imagination. But this was reality, and he had a right to know. She could have injured him severely. More than that, though, she _needed_ him to know, to wrap her in his strong embrace and make her fears go away. She swallowed, gathering her courage and tried to frame the words.

"You remember how all this started – when Jesse told us that he'd passed his expiry date?"

"I remember. That's when I started looking through our medical records to see if the rest of us got the same treatment he did."

"I…already know that I didn't."

That hit him like a punch to the gut. The arm that circled her so possessively tightened around her.

"What are you saying? Has something happened?"

She lifted her open hand and held it flat before his eyes. As he watched keratin seemed to flow over and beyond her nails, growing and thickening at an astounding rate. In a brace of seconds they became as long and sharp as the claws of a tiger, curving and pointed, and at least two inches long. He touched one gingerly, feeling its hardness and the sharpness of its point. After a moment they melted away, receding into the cuticles, and her hand was as it had always been.

"It started happening when I was in San Francisco," she said miserably, "I tried to convince myself I was imagining things, but this is pretty hard to miss. You should see the grooves I dug in the steering wheel tonight while trying to shake those goons."

He didn't reply for a moment; he just held her hand, staring at it, lightly stroking the back with his thumb, and she was in an agony of uncertainty waiting for his reaction. Finally, he spoke.

"Is it just your hands, or your feet also?"

The question startled her. Of all the things he could have said, wasn't even close to what she expected. Come to think of it, she never even considered that her feet might be affected as well. She thought quickly, her toes flexing automatically as she tried to recall if she had experienced any similar sensations there. Thank goodness she hadn't.

"Nooo…I think it's just my hands," she managed to stammer. Her hands were bad enough; she couldn't even begin to think of what she would do if her feet suddenly sprouted claws as well.

"That helps."

What did he mean by that? Was it that disturbing to him that she was turning into a freak? She raised up to look at him, pain and fear knifing her gut.

"I mean, if it was your feet, too, it would probably be hell on the sheets."

She blinked. "Sheets?"

"On the down side, it looks like you're going to have to stock up on nail polish."

"Nail polish?" She couldn't believe her ears.

"Yeah, you know – that colored stuff women put on their nails. You don't wear it often, but you do sometimes."

Shalimar felt as if she was spiraling down a rabbit hole. She just told Brennan that she was mutating, and he was talking about sheets and nail polish? Didn't he realize that she could have punctured him like a pincushion, sliced him to ribbons with a double handful of knives? The incredulity must have shown on her face, because he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

"Shal – this doesn't change anything, not between us," he said softly, "This isn't the first time one of us has mutated, and with the exception of Jesse, it probably won't be the last. We've dealt with it before, we'll deal with it this time. Besides, you've got a better handle on this than you think you have."

Her head shot up sharply.

"How the hell would you know? You didn't know anything about this until I just showed you!"

He shifted slightly in an abbreviated shrug. "Easy. From the looks of those claws, if you didn't have it under at least some kind of control, I'd look like Swiss cheese." He was aware of a number of deep welts she left on his arms and back during their torrid lovemaking, though their sting was nothing next to the sharper pain in his shoulder. It pleased him to be wearing her marks, like she was staking her claim on him, just as he had done with her. His voice deepened with a purely male satisfaction. "Scratches, but no punctures."

"You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

He squeezed her gently, reassuringly. "You would never hurt me."

Part of the pain in her stomach dissipated, but only part. Though hugely relieved that she hadn't injured him, and that he wasn't repulsed by what was happening to her, he still didn't seem to get the greater ramifications that had her stomach twisting in fear. She stared at him with wide, anxious eyes.

"But, Brennan – I'm _mutating_! Jesse has already passed his expiry date! What does that mean, for me or for you? What if this means my date is coming up? We've just come together; I couldn't bear it if …."

He slid his fingers into her golden tresses. His big hand cupped her head as he brought her mouth to meet his in a gentle but thorough kiss, as much to comfort her as to keep her from seeing his own pain. He got it, all right. He understood the implications all too well, which was why he took so long to answer her before. He couldn't stand the thought of having her torn away from him so soon, but she was the one it was happening to. What she needed now was reassurance, so he desperately clamped a tight lid on his own terror and did his best to wrap her in a blanket of love and encouragement.

"Shhh…it will be all right." He stroked gently, soothingly down the ridge of her spine, wishing with all his might that he could somehow take her fear away, absorb it into his own pores. "Things are different now. Jesse passing his expiry date means that there _is_ a cure. What worked for him will work for you, for all of us."

"But Adam – the Dominion has him, or maybe Acosta does, and.."

"So we'll find him. We'll get him back, and that Creator guy. The two of them together double our chances. And then there's Matt and his people, and Jaryl. She may be able to give insights into this that nobody else can."

She appeared to gain some comfort from that, although she was still plenty spooked. Or was it more than that? If he didn't know better, he'd swear that the flush painting her cheeks came from guilt. What would she have to be guilty about? He pondered that for a moment, reviewing what she'd said – and more importantly, what she hadn't said – and thought he knew where it came from.

"That's what was really on your mind at Sanctuary, wasn't it - when you came looking for me."

She shifted against him uncomfortably.

"Partly. But Brennan … I don't want you to think that's why this happened between us; I mean, that I came to you at Sanctuary just because of this. I'd been thinking about it before I knew what was happening… "

"But it did push you over the line."

She couldn't deny it, but continued quickly. "Yes, but I don't want you to think that was the only reason..."

He silenced her with the touch of his finger on her lips. She didn't know it, but she had just cut through all the agonizing he had done earlier and told him what he wanted to know. They were in this together. Maybe they weren't precisely on the same page, but close enough, and under the circumstances he was okay with that.

"It's all right. You don't need to feel guilty over it, or think I'm offended. It would have happened anyway. Sooner, actually, if Jesse hadn't had such lousy timing. In fact, I'd planned on it. That's what that snare in the woods was really all about."

She stared at him, remembering how he'd challenged her to track him out on Stormking Mountain and then tricked her into a snare he had previously set. She had been flung into the air to dangle upside down by a rope around her ankles while he laughed at her. This was his attempt at seduction?

"You mean you set that up as some kind of foreplay?" Shalimar could feel her hackles rising dangerously. Brennan grinned. Heat splashed through his loins at her reaction, his fatigue dissipating like mist. He knew he was playing with fire, and he was enjoying every minute of it. The signs were plain. From the anger blazing in her eyes it looked like he was going to get to test a theory he'd had after all. He couldn't wait.

"Busted," he admitted without the slightest shred of penitence, "I knew you'd be pissed, but anger is just a short step away from passion. I figured it wouldn't take much, and I was right. It was working until Jesse butted in."

The audacity of the man nearly left her speechless. Never mind that he was right; that she had been just as she was now, stretched out on top of him with the air fairly crackling with sexual tension, when Jesse inadvertently interrupted them via comlink. It was the principle of the thing.

"Why you arrogant son of a …." Shalimar rose up indignantly, the covers sliding down her body, her left arm cocking back and her fist clenching to punch him. Reflexively his right hand shot up to catch her wrist, but before he barely started he flinched hard and cursed, his face going white and his left hand darting up to clutch at his shoulder as his torn flesh vehemently protested the sudden demand he placed on it. She switched gears immediately, responding to his pain, her fist uncurling to become a light, soothing touch.

"I guess slugging you will have to wait until you can make it a fair fight. I don't suppose they left you with any pain meds."

He took a couple of slow breaths, reaching for the calm, disciplined center at the core of his being, then let his hand slip away from his shoulder as the spasm receded. He nodded fractionally toward nightstand on the left. "Over there."

She cleared the rest of the bedclothes and crawled naked across the bigger-than-king-sized bed for the bottle that stood there next to the discarded cotton sling. Frowning, she sat back on her heels as she studied it.

"Are you sure this is it?" she asked dubiously. It looked more like a roll-on deodorant than the pill bottle she was expecting. The words printed on the label were in a language she didn't recognize.

Riveted as he was by the sight of her sitting there completely nude, it took him a minute to process what she was saying. He gave himself a mental shake.

"I'm sure. That's what they used on me earlier. It's a topical, and it works really fast. It doesn't leave me doped up out of my head, either."

She shrugged. "If you say so. Lie back, then. I'll do the front first."

She pulled the top off and gingerly started rolling the ball all around the wound area, being careful not to get the dressing wet. Brennan wasn't nearly as concerned.

"Don't worry about the bandage - go ahead and douse it," he said, "That's where it hurts the most. It'll get changed later anyway."

Shalimar did as he requested, then decided to take it a bit further. Having experience in how pain could radiate and affect nerve endings beyond the actual point of an injury, she applied the analgesic in a wide arc, covering a large swath of skin all around the wound. It must have worked as quickly as he said, because she could feel his muscles relax beneath her hands. When she was sure she had covered the area thoroughly, she had him sit up so she could tend to the entrance wound in the back. He complied with a grunt, grimacing as he tried to keep his shoulder still by holding his arm stiffly against his stomach. Shalimar maneuvered behind him, flushing guiltily when she saw all the scratches she had left him. A few of them were fairly deep, and had to sting pretty fiercely. She kissed them lightly in apology; felt him quiver beneath her lips. She dabbed them with the ointment, then turned her attention to the Asian-symbol tattoo he wore now partially obscured by tape and gauze.As she leaned over him she took a quick, surreptitious sniff at the bullet hole. Thankfully, all traces of the infection odor she smelled earlier were gone.

The clear liquid gleamed wetly for a few seconds before absorbing into pores, cotton and colored tape. Brennan exhaled blissfully. She blew across the area a couple of times to dry it. When she finished she put the cap back on the bottle.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah, a lot." He flexed his elbow and shoulder cautiously. She smiled and started to cross back over to return the bottle to the nightstand.

"Wait a sec."

She paused, giving him an inquiring look. His hand cupped the ball of her shoulder, turning her slightly to get a better look at her back. There was concern in his touch, and more than a little remembrance of his nightmare in his eyes.

"Did I do this?"

Shalimar glanced over her shoulder. A big patch of the fine skin stretching from the joint to encompass her shoulder blade was a collage of deep purple and blue blotches.

"No," she assured him, "That's from the fall at Sanctuary."

He tried to make light of it, though his stomach was clenching at the sight. "So much for the saying that ferals always land on their feet." He took the bottle from her. "Turn around."

"It's fine," she said, but turned anyway. No matter what she said he would insist on ministering to her as she had to him, so she might as well not fight it. And besides, though the hot bath and hydrotherapy she had earlier had helped, it was still sensitive if she moved the wrong way. She pulled her hair aside.

Brennan's touch was infinitely tender as he applied the ointment, spreading it carefully over her mottled skin. He was right about the speed of the relief. The residual soreness subsided instantly as the medicine seeped into her pores, but what surprised her was that it didn't numb the area to other sensations. Whatever it was, this painkiller was some amazing stuff, relieving the discomfort while allowing her to feel the rolling ball of the bottle and the coolness of the liquid as it was spread, as if it targeted the pain receptors only. Her respect for Matt's medical staff jumped several notches. Not even Adam had come up with anything this sophisticated, or that worked this fast.

Brennan capped the bottle and set it aside.

"Better?"

His question may have been the echo of hers, but there was a big difference in the soft, sensual way he asked it. He drew nearer, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs on the back of her neck. Any answer she might have made dissolved into a purr as he kissed her there, then moved to the side of her throat. Heat pooled in her stomach at the graze of his teeth against her skin, the erotic slide of his tongue along the sensitive spot behind her ear. His big hands glided slowly, seductively across her shoulders, down her arms, then moved to her breasts, caressing, arousing. She turned into his embrace, her hands flattening on his pectorals.

"You really should get some rest," she murmured even as her bones started to melt under the carnal onslaught, "You couldn't have gotten much, and you had a rough night."

"We all did. So what?"

"So you were shot. You need some down time."

"We'll sleep in." His hands slid to her bottom, cupping her as he slanted his mouth across hers, kissing her deeply. Shalimar moaned, but tried one last time.

"Are you sure you're up to this again?" she mumbled throatily against his lips.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Oh, yeah."

She pressed lightly with both hands. He lay back willingly, and she adjusted herself astride his muscular body, straddling him on hands and knees. She leaned close, her golden hair cascading around her like a silken veil.

"Don't worry – I'll go easy on you this time."

White teeth flashed in a wicked grin.

"Don't hold back on my account."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

Adam Kane stood in the shower, letting the water sluice over his head in the hope that it might wash away some of the cobwebs in his mind. Though the apartment he had been shown to upon arrival last night was well appointed, and the bed comfortable, he hadn't gotten much sleep. There were too many questions swirling in his mind to allow him to rest.

Foremost in his mind was whether or not his friends were safe. He had been fairly confident that Jesse could get them out of the building after he blew up the Double Helix, but that was before Damien Acosta swept in with his augmented cadre of street thugs. The timing was such that it was eminently possible they had been caught in the middle of the two opposing forces, both of whom had a vested interest in seeing the team neutralized. It was also possible that the two groups were too busy fighting each other to worry overmuch about Mutant X, but the speed at which Acosta had routed the Dominion troops made him fear that Shalimar and the others could also have been overwhelmed by Acosta's manufactured mutants.

He had to believe that they escaped. They were powerful, tough and resourceful. Adam knew that better than anyone, but even assuming they got away, their troubles would be just beginning. They were on the run now, with limited means, which made them vulnerable. Moreover, although he hadn't realized it at first, Brennan had been shot in the attack on Sanctuary, and when they met up with Jesse and Lexa he noticed that the molecular looked like he'd been in a gang fight. The women would close ranks around the men and insist on medical attention for them as their first priority, but with both the Helix and Sanctuary itself lost to them, they would have to seek treatment from someone they may or may not be able to trust, which left them perilously exposed. An organization as vast as the Dominion would be able to track them if they went to a hospital or clinic, and he suspected that Acosta was equally well connected. If either found them, they might never even see the attack until it was too late.

Adam stepped out from the spray, dashed the water from his eyes, and turned off the shower. He was worrying needlessly. Brennan was too street-smart to be caught like that. Chances were that the former felon had found someplace for them to go to ground while they planned their next move. It would be someplace off the grid, where their foes' technology wouldn't be able to find them. Their medical needs may not be all that dire; both men had been ambulatory when he last saw them. Brennan had been able to pilot the Helix, and had even taken out some Dominion guards with electrical bolts. Jesse had reacted quickly to protect his friends after the Helix exploded. That suggested to Adam that their wounds weren't incapacitating.

Unless they had been further injured while escaping.

He picked up a towel and dried himself vigorously, sternly suppressing his concern. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. All he would do is make himself crazy with worry, and he had more immediate things to think about. He was a captive of Damien Acosta, one of the most dangerous mutants alive, a telepath/ telekinetic with, according to the scant information he had been able to gather on the man, a serious God complex. To say that his situation was precarious was a massive understatement.

Adam wrapped the towel around his middle and returned to the bedroom, where a change of clothing had been provided for him. He dressed slowly, his agile mind racing.

He was alive, and being treated with care and respect. Obviously Acosta wanted something from him. The question was, to what lengths was he willing to go to get it? So far it looked like he was trying the soft approach first, but Adam was under no illusions. If that didn't work, Acosta could well use his powers to try to force him to comply. If the man was as powerful, and as ruthless, as the rumors made him out to be, he could well destroy Adam's mind in the process. It was a terrifying prospect.

Adam jumped as a knock sounded on the apartment's outer door. He drew a long breath, trying to suppress the sudden wave of fear. He crossed the room, and steeling himself, opened it to see a lovely young woman in a formfitting silk dress, expensive yet understated, the rich peach color highlighting her warm brown skin. Behind her stood a slightly built older man in chef's attire at the helm of a steaming buffet cart. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air from a glass percolator on top.

"Good morning, Dr. Kane," the woman greeted him, offering a sunny smile. "I thought you might like some breakfast. May I come in?"

This was so far from what he was expecting that it took Adam a moment to remember his manners. He stepped back from the doorway, gesturing her in with a half bow. She led the way to a polished round table with four chairs near the kitchenette on one side of the apartment.

"My name is Marissa," she said, "I have been asked to welcome you, and see that you are comfortable. Naturally, that includes making sure you're well fed."

Adam hid his wariness behind a polite smile.

"Then perhaps you would care to join me."

She beamed. "I'd be delighted."

She opened a side drawer on the cart, extracted a tablecloth, and spread it on the table. While the chef started unloading utensils and transferring food to the kitchenette, Marissa opened a side panel and removed china and cutlery. In short order she had the table set. Adam was quick to note that she had laid three places.

"Is someone else joining us?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"Yes, Damien will be along shortly. He wanted to check on the elderly gentleman who arrived with you last night."

"I see." So the opening gambit wasn't going to be as subtle as Adam first supposed. Still, maybe he could find out something before his captor arrived. He held out one of the chairs for her, and she seated herself gracefully. Before he could speak, the chef called from behind the counter.

"Ms. Sawyer, what would you like?"

"I think a Western omelet would be nice, Henri. A small one, though – I'm watching my waistline. And perhaps some sliced cantaloupe. Dr. Kane?"

"Please, call me Adam."

She inclined her head graciously. "Very well – Adam. What would you like for breakfast? Not knowing your preferences, Henri stocked the cart with everything from A to Z."

"What would you recommend?"

"Henri's eggs Benedict is without equal," said a new voice. Both looked around to see Damien Acosta stride into the suite, resplendent in a faultlessly tailored suit of pearl grey over a silk shirt of French blue. A brilliant sapphire glittered in his tie, matching the one in the ring on his right hand. Marissa bounced up to greet him. He took her hands and gave her a light, affectionate kiss.

"Will you have coffee or tea this morning, Damien?" she asked.

"Coffee, I think, love. And yes, Henri, your exquisite eggs Benedict, with bacon and your spiced hash browns. Doctor?"

Adam pondered for a moment, searching for the trap he was sure was there. It wasn't readily apparent, so he decided to go along with whatever game Acosta playing. He didn't think that the food would be tainted in any way, not in this opening round. Such a ploy would be counterproductive. Acosta was playing the gracious host right now; Adam would find out soon enough what the man wanted of him. In the meantime, he may as well enjoy a good meal. He nodded to the chef.

"The same, please, and coffee for me as well."

Marissa poured for them all and returned the pot to the warmer on the cart before sitting down once more. For several moments the clink of utensils and the hiss of meat sizzling on a griddle were the only sounds. The two men regarded each other over the rims of their cups. Adam could almost hear the clash of invisible rapiers. If Acosta was trying to read him now, and Adam would wager heavily that he was, he was being very subtle about it. The fact that Adam didn't feel any such probe suggested that his adversary possessed a high degree of skill with this particular ability.

But Adam had a weapon of his own. Once before his mind had been invaded by a telepath, but although his foe then was able to steal Adam's knowledge, he didn't have the intellect to comprehend it. Adam used that strategy now, focusing his thoughts on a series of highly complex equations, keeping a running data stream going his head. After what seemed like an eon Acosta lowered his cup. There had been no change in his expression, nothing to indicate there was anything in the slightest bit untoward, though his gaze never wavered. Then Henri slid a plate in front of him, and another in front of Kane, and the moment was passed.

"I trust you find your quarters comfortable, Dr. Kane?" Damien asked after a moment.

Adam gave him an arch look. "My cage is sufficiently gilded, yes."

The mutant winced. "I look at it more as having you in protective custody, but I suppose that to the protectee the wording doesn't matter very much."

"No, it doesn't."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, truly I am, but I couldn't take the chance of the Dominion getting their hands on you."

Adam put down his fork. "Exactly what do you want from me?"

"I want the same thing you want – a cure for mutant instability."

He cut another egg into smaller pieces and gestured to Adam to continue his meal.

"You are the father of genetic mutation, arguably the most brilliant mind in the field. Unlike others, I harbor no bitterness toward you over what ultimately happened. You were trying to save lives. Yes, there were unexpected consequences, and there may have been things which you should have foreseen, but as the saying goes, hindsight is twenty-twenty. What matters is the here and now. The fact that Jesse Kilmartin is alive and apparently stable means that there _is_ an answer. I am prepared to provide you with whatever resources I have at my command to help you find that answer for the rest of mutantkind."

"You expect me to keep you alive so you can achieve your aim of world domination?"

"I think you're looking at Damien through Dominion-tinted glasses," Marissa said, entering the conversation for the first time, "The two of them are poles apart." She took her man's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you, love." He brought her hand up and dropped a quick kiss on her fingers before redirecting his attention to Adam.

"I don't deny that I am building a global conglomerate. Some have called me ruthless because when attacked, I respond in kind. That makes me ambitious, not a monster. It certainly doesn't equate me with the Dominion Council, who arrogantly claim for themselves the right to decide how science advances, and who lives or dies. If anyone has a God complex, it's them."

"It's true, Adam," Marissa said earnestly, "That 'Creator' of theirs is trying to supplant nature itself, take complete command over the human genetic code, and not for any benevolent purpose. The kind of control they're attempting would have horrifying consequences for the entire human race."

"That's why they call themselves 'The Dominion'," Damien added smoothly, "Their focus is on domination, whereas your focus is on healing. That is what I'm asking you to do. And I am _asking_ , not telling. I want that to be clearly understood."

Adam didn't believe that for a minute. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I imagine you're going to be incredibly bored. That's not a state I can stand for myself; for a mind as brilliant as yours, it must be awful beyond comprehension.

"Let me spell it out for you, Dr. Kane," the mutant continued, "As regrettable as it is, I must keep you here until such a time that either the Dominion, for whatever reason, is no longer a threat to you, and/or you have perfected a cure for mutant instability. I'm not stupid enough to think I can force you to work for me; that was the Dominion's mistake. All I can do is offer you as much incentive as I can, and trust that you will devote your honest efforts to finding a cure."

"Keeping me a prisoner isn't much of an incentive."

Damien acknowledged him with a nod. "I know it isn't, and I'm sorry about the necessity, but you are the best and brightest hope for a cure. Jesse Kilmartin is proof of that. I can't leave your safety to chance, because none of us know how long we have."

Adam studied him for a moment. The man seemed earnest enough, but Adam wasn't ready to trust him yet. He couldn't decide if Acosta was a superb liar or telling him the truth. He probed further.

"Suppose I find this cure," he said slowly, "What happens then?"

Acosta picked up his napkin and lightly patted his mouth.

"If you're referring to the cure, then I would be happy to assist you in distributing it to whomever needs it. If you're referring to yourself, then you can do whatever you please, work on whatever you want. You can remain here, under my protection and in my employ; I could build you a lab in whatever location you choose, or you can cut ties with me entirely. Go to Tibet and seek enlightenment in a monastery, if you wish. I would hope you would use your genius for the continued betterment of mankind, but the choice is entirely up to you."

Adam cocked his head. "And why should I believe you?"

Damien shrugged. "Why shouldn't you? It's only common sense. Even after mutants are stabilized, we still have to face the things other people face – cancer, heart disease, diabetes, what have you. If you want turn your formidable mind to that, you will have my full support. First and foremost to me, though, is the cure. With your intimate knowledge of mutant genetics, you have the inside track. My part is providing the resources. Your new lab is the finest money can buy; if there is anything you want or need, it will be provided. In fact, I already have something that may be of great benefit to your research – something even the Dominion didn't have."

Adam didn't even try to hide his skepticism.

"Really? And what would that be?"

"The DNA of an already stable mutant."

"You have Jesse!?"

Acosta shook his head.

"No. I do not have Kilmartin or any of Mutant X; nor, truthfully, do I even particularly want them. As long as they stay out of my way, they can live happily ever after. Live and let live. I was referring to another mutant, an empath so powerful she can heal someone even at the brink of death – something your Mr. Mulwray can attest to."

"Target Alpha."

Anger flashed in the other man's eyes.

"Her name is Jaryl!" he snapped, "She is a human being, not some faceless lab rat!"

"Damien." Marissa stroked his arm soothingly. At her touch he broke off, expelling a long breath as he gathered himself.

"My apologies, Dr. Kane," he said humbly, "I know you're not one of _them_. To Genomex and the Dominion, mutants are nothing but tools or subjects of their twisted experiments. They call us 'anomalies', and give us numbers and code names to dehumanize us, like we're not living beings that feel and bleed and dream, before tossing us aside when we've outlived our usefulness with no more thought than one would give a dropped gum wrapper. Your team, Mutant X, are more than that to you. They're your friends, and you care about them."

Adam immediately recognized the manipulative ploy and wasn't about to fall for it. Acosta talked a good game; he had to give him that. He just had to remember that, no matter how he was portraying himself as the benefactor of mutants, this was still the man who grafted mutant DNA into his first-line troops, knowing full well he was reducing their life expectancies to mere months before those genes literally flamed out. He was also the man who abducted the woman he just so vehemently defended. Adam couldn't allow himself to be fooled by the carefully crafted portrait Acosta was holding up for him.

"You're not concerned with the welfare of mutants," Adam accused, "You're only worried about yourself, about your own stability. That's why you kidnapped Target Alpha – you said her name is 'Jaryl'?"

If Acosta was surprised by the charge, he didn't show it. He shook his head.

"No, I did not kidnap her," he said, "I have long had it out there that I would pay for information that would allow me to find her. A freelancer by the name of Morgan Styles thought that if I paid well for information, I would pay a lot more for the woman herself. He was the one who kidnapped her and brought her to me."

"And once you had her, you used her like the lab rat you accused others of wanting her for. How are you any different from the Dominion?"

Guilt flushed Damien's face. He nodded, acknowledging the justice of Adam's accusation.

"I suppose in some ways I'm not," he replied slowly, "She was unconscious when Styles brought her to me. When my people examined her, they could hardly believe what they were seeing. She was everything she was rumored to be, and more."

He paused while Henri removed the empty plates, gathering his thoughts. After a moment, he leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

"All right," he said, "Yes. I had my people draw blood from her, and run some scans, while she was still unconscious. When presented with the Holy Grail of mutant genetics, I proved myself as fallible as anyone else. My actions are indefensible – I admit that. I can only say that when she awakened I planned to make her much the same offer I'm making you, and for the same reason. I want to find a cure."

Adam regarded him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you so desperate? Are you mutating?"

Damien shook his head. "Not right now, no. I've been lucky. I've gone through some smaller changes, but we both know that it's only a matter of time before I'll need your very specialized help. Besides, even if all of us are cured, that doesn't mean that problems won't crop up in the next generation. We will need your genius if that happens." He reached out and squeezed Marissa's hand, his expression warm and loving. "I would like my children to have someone to turn to in the event the cure doesn't hold through generations."

That sparked Adam's interest. "So you two are…?"

Marissa smiled wistfully. "No, we're not married, Adam, not yet, nor am I pregnant. I love Damien with all my heart, but he believes that until there is a cure the risk is too great."

A shadow darkened Acosta's face as he shook his head. "Of course it is. What father would knowingly chance sentencing his child to a mutant's short life and sudden, brutal death?"

Adam pounced on that.

"Isn't that what you've done to your teams of mutant DNA-enhanced soldiers? You know that the process is inherently unstable. What about their 'sudden, brutal deaths'?"

"We're hoping it won't come to that," Acosta answered, "We've been making progress on it, and have managed to quadruple the expected life span. We're also working on perfecting the reversal process before an individual's situation becomes critical. One thing you should know, though – each and every one of them is a volunteer."

Adam snorted. "I'll just bet they are – just as I'll bet they had no idea what they were getting themselves into."

"You'd lose," the mutant replied, "I was up front about the risks. That's why I recruited from what most would call the dregs. Felons, a lot of them, with multiple convictions and no prospects of anything but death by cop, or at the very least a return to prison."

"And that makes it right? All you did was prey on their hopelessness for your own purposes. Ultimately, they'll be just as dead. And for what?"

"For their families," Acosta said evenly, "I set up a fifty million dollar endowment fund. Everyone that signs with me for this project receives an annuity that provides a lifetime income and medical insurance for their families, and fully funded scholarships to take care of the education of any children they may have."

Adam fought to keep his face from revealing his surprise. With that kind of incentive, someone who thought he had nothing to live for might well trade his life for guaranteed financial security for his family.

"Work for me, Dr. Kane. Find the cure. Save them, save all of us. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Adam had one more card to play. "And I'm supposed to believe that if I do find the cure, you'll give it to my friends?" He snorted. "You want them dead. They're too much of a threat to you."

Damien shrugged. "I suppose they could be, if they really put their minds to it, but only briefly. My forces outnumber them ten to one, and they are growing steadily. I have no need to seek them out. As I said, as long as they don't oppose me I have no quarrel with them. And while I'm thinking of it, let me relieve your mind on one score. I'm sure you have been worried about their safety after the destruction of the Dominion complex. My people tell me that Mutant X escaped without any further complications. Their whereabouts are currently unknown."

He paused, considering for a moment.

"I'll make a deal with you, Dr. Kane," he said at length, "I will give you my word that, as long as they don't attack me or my interests, I will not molest them in any way. I'll go even further - if in some misguided spirit of heroism or whatever they do attack me, I will see to it that my forces react with as much restraint as possible."

"And I will be allowed to administer the cure to them."

"Absolutely – as I said, you can administer it to whomever you please." He allowed Adam a moment to absorb his proposition, then pushed back from the table and stood.

"Well, Dr. Kane? Will you join my team?"

Adam rose also, his face a mask.

"I'll ….. consider your proposal."

A short time later, Damien escorted Marissa from the apartment. For a few moments they strolled in companionable silence, then she slipped her hand from its place on his arm.

"Was I all right, sir?"

"More than all right, as your next paycheck will reflect. You played your part very well, my dear."

"I hope so. I couldn't tell if Dr. Kane believed me or not."

"I don't think he knows that himself. He wants to believe because he desperately wants to atone for the curse he put on mutantkind, but Adam Kane is a cautious man. He will wait and watch, but I think that ultimately his compassion will be his undoing."

"The part about the endowment fund clearly startled him," she said, "It startled me, too. I hadn't heard that part before. It was a nice touch."

Damien smiled. "It just came to me. Much of what drives Dr. Kane revolves around atonement. By showing him that I, too, seek to make reparation where I can, he will come to see that we are not so different – flawed men with the best of intentions, seeking to make right any harm that we've done. In the end, he will be mine through his own free will.

"And that, my dear Ms. Sawyer, is the strongest chain of all."


End file.
